


Fractured Hearts and Splintered Souls

by Aritrea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Horcrux Creation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aritrea/pseuds/Aritrea
Summary: 1943: When Claire enters her sixth year at Hogwarts, there finally seems to be nothing left to worry about. With the Chamber of Secrets closed for good, her focus returns to her friends, classes and - of course - to Quidditch as a new day dawns for the school.That is, to be precise, until Tom Riddle suddenly develops an interest in Claire out of nowhere. But what begins as a harmless game for him and not much more than a nuisance for her, quickly spirals into a dark and dangerous mutual obsession. Suddenly drawn into his world of pain, lies and manipulation, Claire struggles to free herself from Tom, all while losing more and more of herself under his influence. At the same time, though never fully content nor satisfied with her, Tom seems to be unable to let go of Claire either, continuing to shape her until nothing much is left. (canon-compliant with additional OCs)
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33





	1. Autumn Chills

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my very first Fanfiction :) Thank you for taking an interest in my story!  
> I would like to briefly note that English is not my first language, yet I am trying to learn and improve as I write. I'd be incredibly thankful for any and all feedback in regards to my writing, the story or other things you deem noteworthy!  
> Additionally, I want to mention that I am planning to write this story as canon-compliant as possible. Since we only have limited information about Hogwarts in the 1940s, I did have to fill the ranks with a lot of OCs but the timeline as well as all established characters will be kept. I'm considering it a personal challenge to weave in this story between Tom's (already pretty sinister) activities during that time :)  
> Lastly, please mind the story warnings. I am expecting the story to get pretty dark occasionally but I will always warn at the chapter beginning if something potentially triggering will come up.
> 
> Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Prologue

When I reluctantly pushed aside my warm blankets on the morning of November 6th, one look out of the small, circular window next to my bed promised it to be a cold but sunny autumn day.

Thick, white clouds of fog still hung around the base of the nearby mountains and the grass below was covered in a thin sheet of glittering frost that glistened in the pale sunlight. _Ideal Quidditch conditions_ , I noted happily and my mood improved immediately as I stifled a yawn. If only it wasn’t to terribly early. Most of the school must still be asleep, the other girls in my dormitory included.

Still half asleep, I stumbled over to my wardrobe and pulled out my blue-and-bronze uniform from deep under the mess inside. As it hadn’t seen any use thus far this term, it lay safely buried underneath some lesser-used school books, spare robes, and a half-empty pack of owlnuts. I dusted it off somewhat half-heartedly before getting dressed and throwing a quick glimpse at the slightly cracked mirror on my night table.

I looked pale as ever and my hair desperately needed some attention before the match as well so I pulled out a couple of pins from my nightstand and wove the curly black mess on my head into a neat long braid. The rest of my face, I concluded with a sigh, was already looking as good as it was going to get, especially since I never wore make-up. Not if I could avoid it anyway.

With one final approving look at myself, I thus grabbed my trusty _Comet Sixty-Eight_ from the corner and was out of the room before two out of my three roommates had even stirred beneath their covers.

The Ravenclaw common room looked extra magical this Saturday morning, with the big arched windows letting in copious amounts of crispy pale sunlight, giving the dust hanging in the air between bookshelves and sofas an otherworldly sparkle.

Initially, it looked as if no-one but me had risen from their beds yet but as I skipped down the steep staircase from the dormitories with my broom in hand, my eyes needed only a second to spot some bright auburn curls in one of the leather highchairs closest to the marble fireplace.

„Jeyne“, I called, causing my best friend’s round freckled face to appear behind her book with a curious expression. When she spotted me jumping down the stairs, she cracked a smile and put aside her worn copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration._

„Up this early today?“ she asked, undoubtedly hinting at my regular habit of sleeping in longer than socially acceptable. 

„It’s match-day“, I countered like that simple fact explained everything. Which admittedly, to an extent, it did. There was no way in hell I would be up at this hour otherwise. „Good weather, perfect sight conditions. Not like last year.“

I shuddered visibly while remembering the rainy muddy mess that had been last year’s first Quidditch game against Hufflepuff. It had taken me an entire week to get rid of the constant shivering and chattering of my teeth.

„I was thinking to grab an early breakfast and do some practice rounds before the match. Shake off some more of that summer break rust, you know?“

But Jeyne just shot me a knowing smile, her green eyes twinkling with mischief.

„Ah, and it totally doesn’t have anything to do with avoiding a certain Gryffindor Chaser before the match, right?“ she grinned, knowing exactly that she had guessed right. 

At her mere mention of him, my heart did an embarrassing, fluttering jump in my chest that immediately made me frown. Henry Calvary and I had started dating at the end of the last school year and the long summer break months had felt like an eternity apart. The only occasional ray of light in the dullness that had been my six-week-vacation in Greece were the letters I had received from Henry (exploring hundreds of identical old, dusty ruins was considered a ‚fun‘ holiday experience when your dad is working in the ministry department for _International Wizarding History, Architecture and Artifacts Subdivision_ ) and finally seeing him again on September 1st had only increased my embarrassingly girlish crush. Which Jeyne was only too happy to tease me about, obviously.

„Well“, I thus conceded under her amused gaze that annoyed me more than I cared to admit, „maybe it has partly to do with that. But I don’t want him to get into my head today, he is temporarily considered an enemy. I can’t have any distractions before the match.“

My best friend tried to stifle a laugh and covered it up by pushing her book back into her bag. Not very successfully, might I add.

„Claire,“ she then continued in a forced casual tone, „there hasn’t been a single moment since May where Henry _hasn’t_ been in your head, regardless of whether you saw him or not. What do you think he is going to do? Find out that Ravenclaw’s secret strategy will be to catch the Snitch and win the game?“. 

„He could be a Gryffindor spy“, I protested with a blush, mostly because I took mild offence to Jeyne’s suggestion that there wasn’t any more strategy to Quidditch than catching a Snitch and winning the game. „He could try and distract me! And I’ll have you know that there are at least eight hundred and forty seven officially recognised Quidditch maneuvers, all of which were used in the last world cup! Which you knew if you’d actually read _Quidditch through the Ages_ instead of schoolbooks for once“.

Jeyne shot me an apologetic smile and my indignation fell flat at once. I just couldn’t stay cross with her for very long, especially not if I knew that she was right.

I threw myself into the armchair next to her with a dramatic sigh and pulled my uniform’s hood into my face.

„I just can’t risk to make a fool of myself at the game later just because he is there distracting me“, I mumbled miserably. In my head, I could already see my boyfriend in his usual effortless glory scoring goal after goal in front of a crowd of cheering Gryffindors while I flew around the pitch like an idiot looking for the Snitch.

Jeyne allowed me a few silent moments of shameless self-pity out of the goodness of her heart, but then I felt her hand grab mine with an encouraging squeeze.

„You got this, Claire“, she promised while getting up. She swung her bag over her shoulder and pulled me to my feet. „But how about we get some breakfast first before you give up on the Quidditch cup already?“

——

When we arrived in the Great Hall shortly after, it was still almost entirely empty. Just a small group of Hufflepuffs sat at their table yet and, judging by the noticeably dark shadows under their eyes, I took a wild guess that they were fifth-years.

With a sudden rush of sympathy I remembered the horrors of my own last school year, where homework and studying had suddenly increased to an insane level given our impending O.W.L.s. Just how exactly I had made it through that year, on top of the tragedy that had been the sudden attacks on Muggle-born students in the school, I still didn’t know for sure.

I tried shooting one of the Hufflepuffs, who was sipping his pumpkin juice with a blank stare without noticing that half of it was dripping down his robes, an encouraging smile. Oh, the feeling of impending doom that the O.W.L.s instilled in everyone…sometimes I woke up drenched in sweat even now, a year later, convinced to have forgotten about the deadline of at least one crucial arithmancy essay. It really didn’t bode well for the incoming N.E.W.T.s next year, since those would actually define our careers, for better or worse…

And yet, it still felt weird to sit down at the Ravenclaw table as if nothing more unusual than exams had happened last year, when just a few months earlier into the year the school had in fact been close to being shut down. More than two dozen Muggle-born students had been injured, some of them quite gravely.

It had been a period of sheer terror that had reached its terrible climax when a third-year girl from my own house, Myrtle Warren, had been found dead in a bathroom. I still felt a cold shiver run down my spine remembering the screams and grief in the Ravenclaw common room when Professor Cepheus, head of our house, had announced that Myrtle had been found and that the school was to be closed within the week. Even he had not been able to hold back his tears that night.

„What are you brooding about? Still the game?“ Jeyne asked me shortly after, while I was still absentmindedly smothering my toast with unholy amounts of strawberry jam. Her voice called me back from my dark thoughts and I reached for a cup of hot chocolate with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold weather outside.

„Oh, you know..“, I mumbled, „..just last year. That boy, Rubeus, he wasn’t actually sent to Azkaban now, was he?“ 

Jeyne shook her head with a frown, her auburn curls bouncing around her pretty face. „No, I heard that Professor Dumbledore insisted that he returns here soon to be trained as groundkeeper.“

She was whispering, though I didn’t know whom she feared would overhear us in the mostly empty hall. However, it was obvious from her face what she thought of the idea of keeping a boy like Rubeus Hagrid around the very place he allegedly committed his crimes at. 

I, on the other hand, was not sure what to think about the matter at all.

I couldn’t fault Jeyne for her feelings of course, not after she had spent the last year terrified of being attacked for having two Muggle parents. And yet…Rubeus Hagrid, who had been rumoured to be behind the attacks on Muggle-born students with the help of some mystery ‚monster‘ of Salazar Slytherin, had merely been in his third year. Quiet, shy, but overall likeable, he had already been a small celebrity at school due to his enormous size but not once had he made a violent or even particularly talented impression on me. On the contrary, during the brief encounters I had had with him, he had struck me as quite gentle, always making sure not to bump into too many people in the hallways between classes.

It left a bad taste in my mouth how a series of such savage attacks had ended conveniently just as the school was about to be closed. Was a student like Rubeus, a Gryffindor as well, really able to commit such crimes with the help of _Slytherin’s_ monster of all things? A monster, not to mention, that nobody had seen or heard of since?

Nevertheless, based on the rumours that had taken the school like a wildfire afterwards, Rubeus Hagrid had been caught redhanded by prodigy student and Slytherin prefect Tom Riddle, now revered owner of a _Special Award for Services to the School_. I finished my toast with a frown matching Jeyne’s, not sure whether my sudden nausea had to do with my toast or with Tom. There was but a handful of people at Hogwarts whom I truly disliked and Riddle definitely made the top three. 

„You know, I really wonder why Professor Dippet trusted Dumbledore with this decision“, Jeyne finally said, pulling me out of my sinister thoughts again. „You’d think Dumbledore was already headmaster, not him. But overall, I guess we just have to be happy the school can stay open. Can you imagine if we hadn’t been able to return here last month?“

I watched my best friend refill her cup with pumpkin juice with a pondering expression while contemplating a full Hogwarts-less year spent with my dad, submerged in dusty ruins digging for the five-hundredth antique magical flower pot.

„I’d rather not imagine“, I concluded. 

——

The Great Hall had already started to fill up more and more by the time Jeyne and I had finished our breakfast and started our escape towards the Quidditch pitch. As we walked, I thus couldn’t keep my eyes from darting around nervously for any sign of Henry, as if he could jump out from behind a statue at any moment to make my fears of failing at the match a reality with his sheer presence. It wasn’t until we managed to escape through the entrance hall onto the chilly school grounds shortly after that I finally started to relax. With the match just another two hours away, I found my spirits immediately lifted by the combination of fresh air, sunshine, and the prospect of a few rounds on my broomstick.

Autumn was truly my favourite season at Hogwarts, I concluded with a smile as we descended towards the Quidditch pitch with our Ravenclaw scarfs tightly wrapped around us. When the trees in the nearby forbidden forest turned a darker shade of green, the pale fading sunlight glittered on the Black Lake and a bitterly cold, stinging wind kept falling leaves and students alike in constant motion - that was when I felt the most alive, the most at home.

When we finished our short walk across the grounds in silence, Jeyne quickly climbed into the spectator seats of the oval pitch, her freckled nose once more buried in _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ , while I diligently practiced a couple of difficult maneuvers we had introduced to our tactics the previous year.

The biting wind and the clear blue sky did a better job of shaking me awake than any pumpkin juice and I felt genuinely relieved to have a thorough warm-up session before the game started later this morning. Even though I had originally started on the Ravenclaw team as Chaser in my third year, this would only be my second year as their Seeker and I admittedly felt quite pressured given the narrow Quidditch Cup defeat we had suffered last year at the hand of the Slytherin team.

We had been _so_ close to a victory, closer than any of the years before, when our Keeper, Elaine Watson, had become one of the last victims of Rubeus Hagrid and we had, unable to replace her on such short notice, lost to Slytherin by almost three hundred points - a fact that still stung me now, half a year later. This year just had to be better, it had to! And not just in regards to Quidditch.

It wasn’t until I was flying particularly high above the pitch a good while later, about to practice a few vertical nose dives, when I noticed that something was off. Far below me, barely visible through some hazy clouds, a couple of figures seemed to be heading through the spectator seats right towards Jeyne.

I squinted down at them, trying to recognise a few of our friends who might have come to show their support early, but when the figures finally caught up with Jeyne all I heard was a muffled yell and quickly descended towards them, clutching my wand under my robes just in case. The wind was rushing in my ears and I felt my heart beat ever faster as I headed towards them. What was going on?

As soon as I had made it far enough to make out who had entered the seats, however, I knew we were in some trouble. Instead of some of our Ravenclaw friends, as I had hoped, I counted three Slytherin boys next to Jeyne, who had apparently been pushed from behind over her seat to the row in front. Her book had fallen a few rows further and as I watched her struggle back to her feet, I could tell that she was hurt.

I felt the blood rushing through my ears together with the cold autumn wind as I felt the rage swell inside me. Who did they think they were attacking Jeyne out of nowhere? Unprovoked as well! I shot down to where they were standing way faster than what could be considered safe and positively smashed into the row right next to Jeyne, startling her and the boys quite heavily as I jumped off my broom. 

I recognised all three of them at once and my mood got even sourer.

Erian Lestrange, who was in his sixth year just like us, his usual arrogant expression only briefly replaced by surprise, was flanked by his favourite sidekicks Arthur Nott and, and this was definitely the bigger problem, Eridanus Mulciber. Mulciber was a somewhat dense seventh-year of brutish size and strength whom I was certain only hung around the likes of Lestrange because he gave him more excuses to beat people up. I closed my fist around my wand in my right pocket just to be sure and shot all three of them a devastating glance. 

„What do you think you’re doing?“ I snapped at them as Jeyne finally got back to her feet, touching her cracked and bloody lower lip with a wince.

I could see Erian scan me from head to toe with stormy grey eyes, probably sizing me up to determine whether I was even worth bothering with, and immediately grimaced in his general direction. To say I couldn’t stand him was an immense understatement.

„Claire, isn’t it?“ he finally asked me in a deceptively casual tone. „We were just looking for some free seats.“ Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Arthur Nott smirk, fuelling my anger even further.

„The match isn’t happening for another hour“, I replied furiously. His stupid excuse was making my blood boil. „And the stadium is empty. I was expecting Mulciber to be too dense to notice but you too, Erian? I suggest you stop spewing bullshit and get lost“. 

„Claire, don’t!“ I heard Jeyne whisper but the longer I looked at Erian’s bored face, the less I felt like being reasonable - a fact I was sure to be obvious, given the smile that now spread across his arrogant expression. 

„Got spirit, this one“, he sneered as his two friends laughed in support. „Wouldn’t have acted like this a few months ago though, would you? Threatening Slytherins with your mudblood friend around? If I was you,“ and he cracked a cruel smile at Jeyne, „I’d be happy I survived the last term. Who knows what’s in store for filth like you this year? Maybe Slytherin’s monster has got some appetite left even without that giant oaf Hagrid around.“

He had barely finished his sentence when something inside me snapped.

I was so angry that I could barely breathe, barely focus. Maybe it happened because of the tension the last year had put me under, especially regarding Jeyne’s safety, or because of my intense dislike for Lestrange and his vile insult to my best friend, but no sooner had he finished talking than I had smashed the hilt of my broom into his face. He fell backwards with a yell, clutching his nose, and then several things happened at once. Both Arthur Nott and I drew our wands in one fluid motion as dimwitted Mulciber still processed the fact that I had just attacked his friend.

But then, before anyone could cast a single curse, before Jeyne had even finished her panicked yell for me to stop, I suddenly got violently lifted off my feet, hovering above the others for one brief moment like a wet towel in the wind before jolting sideways, slamming heavily into the wooden seats a few rows above them. 

All air got pressed out of my lungs while I collided with the stands, my wand and broom got knocked out of my hands and my vision became instantly blurry as I felt something crack within my chest.

I could hear Jeyne scream my name from where she stood as I stared at the bright blue sky above me, trying to remember how to breathe through the stabbing pain.

My initial attempt to sit up resulted in ragged breaths and a thousand tiny stars dancing before my eyes. What on earth had just happened? I was certain that none of the Slytherins had been able to curse me this fast and yet here I was, with what felt like at least two broken ribs, slowly emerging from the daze the impact had put me under. Had a teacher been around to see us fight?

Just as I dismissed the thought, convinced that no teacher in their right mind would catapult students twenty meters through the air like this, I could hear someone slowly approach me from the left, and no sooner had I managed to sit up with a loud wince of pain than my problems became even bigger. 

„That will be twenty points from Ravenclaw, I think“, said an icy voice. My blood instantly froze in my veins and my heart decided to skip a long, painful beat. A tall, pale boy was now standing straight over me with his wand casually drawn, his dark eyes fixated on me. „For meddling with things that don’t concern you in the slightest.“

If at all possible, my expression became even grimmer as I recognised school celebrity and prime pain-in-the-arse prefect Tom Riddle staring down at me with his weirdly handsome, yet cruel face. At the same time, I would’ve cursed myself on the spot if I could. How could I have been stupid enough to attack Erian without assuming that his equally awful best friend must have been close by? After all, if there was one thing Erian Lestrange enjoyed more than using his family’s status to bully other students, it was his spot in the never-ending _blinding_ spotlight of Tom Riddle.

I suddenly felt extremely nauseous and I wasn’t sure it was entirely due to my injuries. Tom offered no help as I slowly pushed myself onto my knees under heavy breaths, clutching my ribs and feeling something hot trickle down my forehead that I was pretty certain was blood.

„You _attacked_ me“, I then snapped at him furiously, only now fully realising how he must have lifted me off my feet from an unseen position right after I had broomsticked his best friend. 

„I am pretty certain that you broke Erian’s nose first“, he replied in a reproving tone and even though my vision was still a little blurred, I thought I could see the smallest hint of a smile flash across his otherwise unflinching face. 

With an agonising groan, I pushed myself back to my feet as I saw Jeyne hurriedly climbing up the rows that separated us, clutching her book. I could feel Tom’s dark eyes watching me intently as I struggled to steady my breath, dead-set on showing as little weakness as possible. Now that I stood up next to him, however, his intimidatingly tall figure seemed to overshadow me all the more and even though I hated myself for it, I wasn’t able to hold his gaze for more than two seconds.

„You’re the Darcy girl“, he then proclaimed, making me flinch as if he had just jumped at me from behind a bush at night. It wasn’t a question and still, the hypocrisy of it almost made my blood boil.

As if Tom Riddle didn’t know _exactly_ who I was. He had known it since second grade when he had made his friend Avery hex me in the corridor between classes, causing my ears and nose to emit painful boiling-hot steam as I was rushed to the hospital wing in tears, earning me the mean nickname ‚Airy Claire‘ for the rest of the year. The only person other than me who had not found that joke simply hilarious was Jeyne. She had happened to be in the hospital wing herself that day with some weird allergic reaction to a potion she had tried to brew that morning in class, covering her face with painfully oozing blisters (she had been equally savagely named ‚Juicy Jeyne’). We had been best friends since that day, which was the first and last thing I ever planned on owing to Tom Riddle. So how did he dare to stand here now, acting as if we had just met for the first time? _Gods_ , how I hated him.

I gathered all my courage and shot him an icy glance, hoping to convey exactly how I felt about his stupid question and his ridiculously inflated ego at the same time and regretted it almost instantly. Watching me, Tom’s lips curled into a barely visible smile and for the fraction of a second I thought I could see something red flash across his dark eyes. The moment was gone just as fast as it had come and my anger was replaced by an overwhelming need to get away from him and his friends as soon as possible.

„Are you alright, Claire?“ I heard Jeyne pant just moments later as she finally reached me but I got momentarily distracted by Lestrange and Mulciber laughing loudly behind her back at some stupid joke I couldn’t hear. 

„I’d watch my tongue, Erian“, I yelled down to them before thinking to take a much needed second to clear my head. I was just thankful to have a reason to turn away from Tom. „Next time I might shove that broomstick someplace less public!“

I could hear Jeyne next to me sharply inhaling air as Lestrange’s face turned red in anger, matching his swollen nose, and I was half expecting him to pull out his wand and hex me again on the spot when Tom suddenly intervened, stopping his friend dead in his tracks.

„You’d better get back to the hospital wing if you want to make it to the match without losing any more points, Claire“, he said, still not moving his eyes off me even when I limped away to pick up my wand and broom from between the seats. Jeyne had to put my arm around her shoulder to help me stand steadily (I could see Tom regard her briefly with the same expression I usually saved for particularly fat spiders) and we were about to turn away, when I could hear his cold voice behind us once more, though much quieter this time. „Ah, and I suppose we will see each other again very soon.“ 

I turned around again awkwardly for just a moment, staring at his pale face and a shiver went down my spine as I saw that his lips had curved into a highly captivating smile. 

I could feel my heart beating fast against my broken ribs but I tried not to let my fear reach my face as I pondered his words. What was he playing at? Of course we would see each other again soon, we were in the same year and he knew just as well as I that Ravenclaw shared a couple of classes with the Slytherins. But somehow I didn’t feel like that was what Tom had meant at all.

I considered for a brief moment to ask him here and now what exactly his problem was but deep within me, I knew he was right. We had to hurry to the hospital wing to fix my ribs before the game started and even though a large part of me loathed the thought of a tactical retreat, I also had Jeyne’s safety to consider. 

„Let’s go“, I therefore muttered to her and we made our way down the stands and over the pitch towards the castle as fast as we could, the Slytherins’ laughter echoing eerily behind us in the empty stadium. 

The entire way, I had the harrowing impression that Tom Riddle’s eyes followed me on our way towards the exit of the pitch but when I threw a final glance over my shoulder as we passed the gate, there was no-one left in the stadium at all.


	2. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to quickly note two things:
> 
> 1) I reworked the first chapter a little before posting the second, just to iron out some things that bothered me. It got a little longer but nothing major changed.  
> 2) I had to rename Corvus to Erian. I had no idea that Corvus was already the name of a character in Fantastic Beasts. I never saw the second movie (where Corvus apparently plays a role) but I guess I picked the name because I had already heard it somewhere in the back of my mind. But to avoid confusion, I changed the name since the characters weren't meant to be similar or identical at all :)

Chapter 2 - Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

Healing my broken ribs as well as Jeyne’s cracked lip (which had swollen up to twice its original size by the time we reached the hospital wing) took only five whole minutes. 

I considered it a testament to Madam Riley’s healing abilities and her extensive expertise when handling _inexplicable_ student injuries that she didn’t ask us too many questions in the process. I was sure that my mumbled excuse of a ‚freak Quidditch accident‘ didn’t quite convince her, but to my immense relief, she only ordered us to stay and rest for about half an hour and left us otherwise in peace.

In the meantime, Jeyne and I used the quiet time to drag Tom, Erian and the others through the mud as thoroughly as possible, very much intent on missing out on as few insults as humanly possible. It seemed as Jeyne was just as clueless as I in regards to why the both of us had to be subjected to this much bullshit from the Slytherins today of all days. But the more we discussed this morning’s events (the part where Tom Riddle had taken twenty points from us in a move of impressive hypocrisy got Jeyne especially enraged), the more we started to agree that maybe we had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

As the time ticked ever closer to eleven, however, it got increasingly difficult for me to sit still on my bed, knowing full well that my ribs were perfectly healed and that my team was probably meeting for out usual pre-match briefing at this very moment. I was just on the verge of suggesting a hospital wing breakout when Madam Riley’s voice sounded from her office, finally releasing us and wishing us good luck with the game. I positively shot from my bed and grabbed Jeyne’s arm to pull her with me. 

„Come on, _hurry_!“ I panted shortly after, as we ran across the grounds for the third time today, sprinting past the last small groups of students heading towards the Quidditch stadium. It seemed as if the vast majority of the school had already made their way into the spectator seats and a blinding autumn sun had risen in the sky, heralding an unusually warm November day. 

We split at the stadium entrance not a second too early. Jeyne shouted a breathless „Good luck!“ in my direction as she disappeared up the stairs towards the stands while I mobilised what remained of my stamina and hurtled towards the small side-chamber used for pre-match briefings. When I burst through the door close to fainting, six worried faces were already staring at me. 

„Merlin’s beard, Claire!“ gasped Majorie, our team captain, as she watched me burst into her speech. Her shocked expression turned into relief the same second that I sunk onto one of the benches next to the wall with a miserable wheezing sound. My lungs seemed to have burst into flame and a mean pinching pain now throbbed in my side that had less to do with broken ribs and more with a severe lack of stamina. I felt like a fish on dry land gasping for air. 

„Yes, Claire, where have you been?“ asked one of our Beaters, Decan Mallory, not without a hint of ridicule in his voice. „You missed Majorie’s entire motivation speech for the new season.“ He sounded like there were worse fates in the world. Majorie punished him with a devastating frown before turning her attention back to me. 

„Claire, is that _blood_ on your uniform?“ she gasped, pointing at my shoulder with a puzzled look but I just made a feeble attempt at waving her concern aside. 

„Hospital wing“, I choked, not able to go into more detail without wasting precious oxygen. 

„But what…“

„Slytherins!“, I interrupted her again, more clearly now. I very much wished the attention would move away from me and towards the impending match we had to win. Decan let out a wolf whistle while raising his bushy eyebrows and elbowing his best friend Andrew, another Beater.

„Got it. Claire just figured that it’s never too early into a season to beat some respect into the Slytherins“, he joked and everyone let out a laugh at my expense. „I hope you showed some second-years just how much Ravenclaw will dominate this year! You might be a lightweight, but I bet they were even smaller.“

I tried a grin and a thumbs up in Decan’s direction but the thought of just how far Jeyne and I had been away from dominating _anyone_ made it hard to look convincing.

The remaining minutes of our briefing then passed, to my relief, without me being the center of attention again. Majorie went over a couple of new group maneuvers we had introduced last season to refresh our memory while I stayed horizontal on my bench to recover from my sprint across half the school grounds. 

When I could finally hear the bell ring for eleven o’clock in the distance, our referee, Professor Elderan, poked his round head through the curtains leading towards the field. He was a small, mousy man with a huge curled moustache and tiny round spectacles that, as Jeyne always joked, made him look like a giant mole. He shot all of us a broad grin, then motioned at us to follow him onto the pitch.

I was just about to grab my broom and follow the others when Decan suddenly held me back with a grin. 

„Hey Claire“, he said, his beater’s bat casually flung over his shoulder. „Say, if I manage to knock Calvary off his broom today, will you go out with me? I think I am in love at the thought of you beating up defenceless Slytherins.“

„In your dreams, Decan“, I replied with a laugh, pushed him aside and hurried outside to catch up with the others on the huge Quidditch pitch.

The stands were, same as always, filled to the absolute brim with not a single free seat in sight. When we emerged from the relative darkness of the side-chamber, we were greeted by a vibrant ocean of red-and-gold and blue-and-bronze coloured banners and scarfs illuminated by the bright midday sun. 

My heart was now pounding in my chest as I took my position among the half-circle we formed in the center of the field, watching Majorie shake hands with, and my stomach decided to do a horribly embarrassing somersault, Henry. My eyes followed him longingly as I swung my leg across my broom, staring at his brown messy hair, his freckled face, his amber eyes. When our eyes finally met for a moment, he shot me a mischievous grin before launching himself into the air. 

In a small fit of panic, based on the fact that I had clearly not heard the starting whistle in my fit of embarrassing gushing, I too pulled my broom upwards and made sure to immediately put a few dozen meters between me and Henry, who had already zoomed off to pursue the Quaffle.

High above the stadium, almost fully removed from the curious eyes of the spectators, I then started my usual rhythm of slow sweeping rounds across the stadium, watching the game develop beneath me while always keeping out an eye for the characteristic twinkle of the golden Snitch.

But for the next thirty-or-so minutes, nothing much was going on. Twice I had to dodge a well-placed bludger sent in my direction by the Gryffindor Beaters and once I almost broke into a full-speed nosedive when I mistook the sun’s reflection in someone’s binoculars for the Snitch. Gryffindor had established a lead of eighty to sixty by this point and the fact that four of their goals were scored by Henry I had of course noticed by complete coincidence. 

I was just about to grant myself a minute of watching him in silent awe, gracefully weaving around our defence on the way to his fifth goal of the day, when my heart suddenly stopped for one long, painful moment. There it was, the golden glimmer I had been waiting for. 

The Snitch was hovering right above the Slytherin curve, twinkling brightly in the sunlight, and a short glance at the Gryffindor Seeker told me that he was busy evading Decan’s and Andrew’s bludger at the moment. Suddenly filled with a rush of excitement and adrenalin, I pulled my broomstick around and threw myself into a fast descent towards my target. The Snitch was now playfully zooming around above the heads of the Slytherin students, none of whom seemed to have noticed it yet. I vaguely took notice of the agitated voice of the commentator covering my movements and instantly wished that it had taken him a little longer to alert the entire stadium to the fact that one of the Seekers had spotted the Snitch. 

As a result, I immediately had to duck as a bludger barrelled past me like a cannonball, swerving skillfully around one of the Gryffindor Chasers who had tried to block my path, but then the way seemed clear. The audience’s agitated yelling mixed together with the commentator’s voice to a loud buzzing in my ears as I felt my broom vibrate under me, complaining at the high speed I pushed it into. The cold wind was rushing past my ears, pulling at my hair but I only had eyes for the small golden orb I was trying to catch. Fifty meters yet separated us, then thirty, then ten…I leaned forward as fast as I could with my arm outstretched, convinced to finish the game in Ravenclaw’s favour any second now when suddenly something went wrong.

My entire broom gave an intense, shuddering jolt as it came to a full stop in midair. With my brain still trying to catch on to what had happened, I lost track of the Snitch as I flew forwards off my broom, barely managing to hold on to it with one hand. I felt like all my blood had rushed from my head into my legs as I gripped the slippery broomstick with my fingers, trying not to fall feet first into the crowd of Slytherins below me. What on earth had just happened? The Snitch had been as good as mine! In over three years on the Quidditch team, nothing like this had ever happened to me before. 

„Bloody hell“, I cursed to myself while I struggled to close my other sweaty hand around the broomstick above me to hoist myself up. If there was one thing I was not keen on at this very moment, then it was to crash into the stands a second time in one day when my ribs had only just been healed.

I was just trying to shove my armpits across my broom, my eyes darting nervously around for any incoming bludgers, when one quick glance below suddenly made me realise what had happened. 

Right below me, in a crowd of laughing Slytherins watching my amateur acrobatics with obvious delight, I recognised the pale face of Tom Riddle. His face bore the same captivating smile from earlier as he slowly pushed his wand back into his robes. Right next to him Erian Lestrange seemed to have a hard time standing straight, so hard was he shook by fits of laughter. 

Blood was fiercely rushing back into my face, as I managed to hoist myself back onto my broom and vacated the Slytherin curve without any further glances down. The Snitch had of course vanished in the commotion. 

I couldn’t believe it. Tom Riddle, _prefect_ might I add, had just jinxed my broom during an official school competition and tiny Professor Elderan had apparently not even seen anything since he was busy lecturing some rowdy fans at the other end of the stadium.

I barely even noticed that Gryffindor scored another goal until Majorie finally showed up right next to me, her eyebrows furrowed and her hair windswept. 

„What happened, Claire?“, she yelled, not without a hint of disappointment. „I thought you had it!“

„Faulty broom“, I snapped back, clearly annoyed, and wondered at the same time why I didn’t tell her the truth about what had kept me from catching the Snitch. My mood was at an all-time low. I just didn’t understand what Tom’s damn problem was. Until this very morning, we had been content to ignore each other’s existence for over five years and now? Now he suddenly started some form of personal vendetta against me. But _why_?

For the better part of twenty minutes, I returned to my observing swerves above the stadium, my mood now so sour I got annoyed at absolutely everything. The screaming of the crowd, the cold wind, the fact that Gryffindor seemed to sweep the floor with us and most of all myself. _Why_ did I have to punch Erian Lestrange? Could I not have been the bigger person and walked away? If this one moment of retribution would now get me Tom Riddle’s jinxes behind every corner, then I very much regretted ever acting up. 

When I next emerged from my brooding, the score had escalated to one-hundred-forty to eighty for Gryffindor. I was just about to get annoyed again when suddenly it happened once more. I saw the Snitch twinkle crystal clear not far from me. The only problem? This time Gryffindor’s Seeker had noticed it as well. 

Once more I pulled around my broom and shot forward, thankful that this time I was aiming far away from the Slytherin curve which hopefully meant safety from further jinxes. The sight of the Snitch seemed to evaporate all my negative emotions as I entered a tunnel of pure focus. I barely noticed the other Seeker next to me while we raced head-to-head across the stadium, spurred on by the cheers of our houses and the adrenaline rush that came with the ability of winning a match with a single good catch. 

The wind was once more stinging in my eyes and half of me was expecting to fly off my broom again any second when I threw everything I had left into a final leap forward and it finally happened. Accompanied by Andrew’s bellowing „Come on, Claire“ scream, my fingers closed around the cold metal of the Snitch and the stadium seemed to erupt in a sudden explosion.

„CLAIRE DARCY CATCHES THE SNITCH! RAVENCLAW WINS WITH TWO-HUNDRED-THIRTY TO ONE-HUNDRED-FORTY POINTS“, the commentator’s voice echoed across the pitch, joined by the thundering cheers of the Ravenclaw curve. 

I too let out a scream of relief as I touched back down on the ground only to be immediately group-hugged by the rest of my team. 

„Great catch, Claire, great catch“, screamed Marie Derniér, one of our Chasers, into my ear with tears of happiness streaming down her exhausted face. Shortly after, Decan’s well-meant pat on my back nearly made my legs buckle.

„Absolutely“, he roared at the top of his lungs, „we’ll just pretend this was your first try at a catch today!“

I let out a nervous laugh but the sheer joy of our achieved victory now overshadowed my anger about Tom Riddle’s mean sabotage. I allowed everyone to shake my hand and hug me about a million times until the first storm of excitement had died down a little and the stadium slowly grew quieter again. The ecstasy of having won our first game of the season made me feel like I was positively glowing with warmth and happiness. 

„Hey, Claire“, I then heard a familiar voice behind me and my heart responded with its usual little flutter. _Henry_!

I turned around with a grin and there he was. His broom lay casually flung over his shoulder, his brown hair was windswept and his face red from the cold wind and yet there was nobody in the world I would have liked to see more this very moment. I crossed the distance between us in three big steps and threw myself into his arms in the middle of the pitch. 

„Merlin’s beard, you were fantastic“, I sighed as he pulled me into a short kiss regardless of our huge audience. I could hear a few whistles coming from the Gryffindor crowd but I didn’t care.

„Didn’t help us at all though, did it?“ he replied breathlessly, his hand still buried in my hair. Gods, how I loved his scent. He smelled like cedarwood and wild berries and everything good in the world. „Five more seconds and Rigel would have caught the Snitch before you. I was half hoping you’d do a second spontaneous somersault off your broom.“

He grinned at my outraged expression and I decided to forgive him anything today. I knew how hard it must be for him to congratulate me on a victory he had worked so hard for himself. 

„Well, it’s your fault that I had to hurry so much“, I thus told him and grabbed his hand as we started to follow the crowd off the pitch and towards the castle for a well-earned lunch. „I couldn’t even blink twice without you scoring a goal!“ My compliment didn’t miss its mark. Henry’s face lit up and he seemed to stand up a little straighter next to me. 

„Yeah, your Keeper…Elaine’s her name? I think she didn’t quite recover from her petrification last year, she moved _so_ slow, I think she is still at least one-quarter statue.“ 

I inhaled sharply in light of this horrendous joke but before I could start to lecture Henry, he had already wrapped his arm around my shoulder with a careless laugh. 

„Just a joke, just a joke! I’m just _that_ good, you know?“ he grinned and threw me an apologetic glance as we entered the cool entrance hall. „Also, I really need a shower before I can face the others teasing me about the fact that my girlfriend stole the victory from us. Meet you for lunch in half an hour?“

„Mhm“, I nodded, let Henry plant another kiss on my forehead and then watched him hurry towards the Gryffindor common room, a whole swarm of butterflies running rampage in my stomach. 

Yes, a hot shower really sounded amazing right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my second chapter :) I hope you liked it!  
> If there is anything you feel like sharing with me, in regards to writing, plot or just in general, that would be highly motivating and helpful to me!
> 
> Thanks in advance and hopefully see you again soon in Chapter 3!


	3. Invitations & Frustrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello and thanks for tuning in for chapter three :) I hope you'll like it!

Chapter 3 - Invitations & Frustrations

For a brief moment, I did nothing but wait around in the entrance hall, relishing in the bright sunlight streaming through the open gates and the excited chatter of the other students around me. The Quidditch match still seemed to be topic number one on everyone’s mind and I found myself filled with a deep sense of calm and content as I waved at a few passing people from my house who congratulated me on my performance.

Life seemed good at this very moment. We had won our first match, Henry was luckily not upset with me because of it, and we had a sunny weekend ahead of us that I intended to spend with my friends, starting with a hearty and well-deserved lunch. Maybe, if we were lucky, the weather would even allow for some time outside at the lake, my favourite spot in all of Hogwarts.

I was just about to turn around and head for the Ravenclaw tower to get started on that scorching hot shower I craved when someone suddenly shouted my name.

„Miss Darcy! Thank goodness that I still caught you!“ I heard a winded voice behind me that I recognised immediately with a frown. _Slughorn._ For a moment, I seriously debated to just dart for the stairs pretending that I didn’t hear him but it was no good, he had already spotted me after all. I resigned to my fate and reluctantly turned towards him with what I hoped to be a happy expression.

„Professor Slughorn“, I said with a forced smile while watching my Potions teacher fight his way up the final steps leading up from the dungeons. He seemed to be completely out of breath, a thin coat of sweat covering his forehead and his arms were loaded with dozens of parchment rolls. „Can I help you in any way? With those scrolls maybe?“

„Ah! No, my dear. Thank you, thank you! Just a lot of essays waiting to be graded at the moment. Really need to remind myself to ask the headmaster for that long-overdue pay raise, am I right? I can’t let him exploit me like this any further.“ He let out a bellowing laugh that I returned somewhat less enthusiastically. My eyes were darting across the entrance hall looking for some familiar face I could use as an excuse to get away but I had no such luck.

It wasn’t that I necessarily disliked my Potions teacher per se but I definitely was uncomfortable with how much he seemed to like _me._ In the meantime, Professor Slughorn presented me with a winning smile, followed by a mischievous wink as if the both of us were privy to a very special secret.

„I just wanted to make sure to give you your new invitation before Wednesday. Silly girl, really, you should have just asked me after class. No need to be shy!“ He started to awkwardly rummage through the parchments in his arms, seemingly looking for something while trying not to drop all of his essays. I, on the other hand, tried to quickly wrack my brain for a clue of what he might even be talking about. An invitation? For what? He seemed to be of the impression that this invitation was something that I really wanted and just was too shy to ask him about. However, I couldn’t think of a single thing I needed from Slughorn and had just decided to ask him whether this was some kind of unfortunate mixup when his shoulders already dropped with a disappointed sigh.

„Goodness me“, he wheezed. „I must’ve left the damn thing in my office. Quidditch always has me on the edge of my seat, you know? Makes me forget the simplest things in all the excitement. There was this one time, before your time here, my dear, when I was so anxious to get to the final match of the season that I nearly left without my robes on. Would you believe it?“ He let out an amused snort that I acknowledged with a blank expression and a stiff nod. I felt like I had just walked into some kind of prank.

„Anyway, would you mind quickly accompanying me to my office? It’s just down the corridor. But of course you know that. Wonderful performance in the match earlier today, by the way, Miss Darcy, truly wonderful. I was captivated, your mother would have been so proud!“

„Uh, Professor, with all due respect, I don’t really know what you…“, I tried to interrupt him but Slughorn had already turned around to head back down into the dungeons. I thought I heard him mumble something that sounded like ‚No excuses, Miss Darcy‘ under his heavy breath so I threw a last longing glance at the bright entrance hall before I followed him down the stairs. My hot shower suddenly seemed to move further and further out of reach.

Compared to the nice weather outside, the dungeons felt even colder, damper and darker than usual. Nearly all students had made directly for lunch in the Great Hall after the match so we didn’t encounter a single soul while shuffling through the gloomy corridor to Slughorn’s office.

„Just a moment, got the key here somewhere“, he panted while trying to unlock the entrance without dropping all his essays. When the heavy oak door finally swung open, he waved me inside invitingly.

Horace Slughorn’s office, in which I had only been about twice in my six years here, consisted of a weird mixture between creepy potion ingredients lining the walls and a multitude of signed pictures, posters and personal souvenirs covering every bit of otherwise free space. The flickering light of the torches on the walls enveloped everything in a stuffy atmosphere that made his sweaty face look even redder and puffier.

I watched my teacher trudge around his big office desk, throwing the essays onto it without much care, after which his face disappeared in a drawer for a short while. He then emerged, quite happily, with a small lilac envelope bound in a terrible glittery band that immediately made my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach.

„Oh, an invitation to your Club, Sir?“ I choked, desperately trying to appear thrilled, as Slughorn handed me the envelope like a graduation certificate. My voice sounded about two ranges too high. Why didn’t I think of this?

„Ah, no need to thank me, my dear“, he waved graciously, thankfully oblivious to the fact that I’d much rather be holding a bucket of flubberworms than his invitation. I had participated in exactly two Slug-Club meetings since starting at Hogwarts and after the second one, I had decided that no job recommendation could be worth enduring this much boredom every week until graduation.

„But Sir“, I finally found my normal voice again, „however did you know that I…wanted to join your Club again?“ I had to swallow hard to keep up my expression of sheer delight. I had barely asked the question when Slughorn’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, a twinkle appearing in his watery eyes.

„My dear, I really have to say that you have an _extraordinary_ talent of winning over the most promising young wizards in your year.“ He shot me a wink as if I knew exactly what he was playing at and pinched my arm waggishly. „But I am afraid I can’t reveal my sources, can I? Otherwise none of my favourite subjects would ever confide anything in me anymore. And now I really ought to get going as well, these essays surely won’t grade themselves. Was so lovely to chat again, Miss Darcy, really. I am looking forward to seeing you Wednesday.“

Another bellowing laugh, then he grabbed his mountain of essays, shooed me out of the room and locked the door again. Before turning away to brave the stairs to the entrance hall once more, he smiled at me, still clearly oblivious to the fact that I had just about no clue what was going on.

„And before I forget, please do tell that talented boy of yours, Henry, that I’d be thrilled to welcome him to one of my parties as well, should he feel up to it.“

„Uh, sure, Professor“, I stuttered. „I’ll let him know. And thanks again for the invitation.“

„My pleasure, my pleasure entirely!“ Slughorn did a little wave with what remained free of his hand, then turned around and vanished down the corridor, leaving me alone and highly confused.

For a while after he had gone, the dungeons seemed almost unnaturally quiet. The terrible lilac envelope in my hand appeared to suddenly weigh about a ton.

None of what I had just witnessed made any sense. _How_ had he gotten the impression that I wanted to ask him about the Slug-Club? Had one of my classmates maybe decided to pull a particularly elaborate prank on me? Nobody in their right mind, nobody that knew me at least, could after all seriously assume that it was my secret wish to be invited to Professor Slughorn’s dinner party again. Not after I had blissfully ignored this activity for the past four years!

The worst thing about this turn of events, I finally concluded with a sigh, was that I saw just about zero chance to escape my fate. If Slughorn thought that I _wanted_ to come and even went out of his way to hand me an invitation, what were the odds that I could come up with an acceptable excuse to skip Wednesday? If anything, that would just delay the inevitable. I’d have to show up to at least one dinner party to avoid his immeasurable disappointment. I really couldn’t afford to offend him just one year before I intended to score an Outstanding Potions N.E.W.T. level.

So for a small eternity, I just stood in front of Slughorn’s office, rooted to the spot while brooding over this newest turn of unfortunate events. The euphoria of a won Quidditch match I had felt until only fifteen minutes ago had evaporated completely, leaving behind only confusion and, to a growing extent, anger. I just didn’t understand why I suddenly had to be subjected to everybody’s intrigues when until this week, I had been able to live a relatively unbothered life at school. I had a couple of really good friends, great grades, an amazing boyfriend and, until today anyway, no serious enemies.

And now? Now my ribs had been broken, my house had lost twenty points, my broom had been jinxed and I found myself forced to attend a stupidly boring Slug-Club party all in a single day. Only one common cause for all of these „mishaps“ came to my mind as I stood in the chilly corridor with a deepening frown, and I _sure_ hoped that this invitation wasn’t another idiotic way of getting back at me for breaking Erian’s nose.

I had just concluded that this was all going to become more clear after a thorough discussion with Jeyne after lunch when I suddenly heard steps coming towards me from the entrance hall.

I looked up curiously and felt like I was turning into solid ice at the same second. My broom fell out of my hand onto the floor with a loud bang that echoed eerily between the dungeon walls. ' _Not again, is he stalking me?'_ I thought in a panic as I recognised Tom Riddle’s tall stature in the corridor between me and my way to safety. He was alone and yet his calm expression looked as if he, at least, was far from surprised to find me here, immediately crushing my vague hopes that this was just an accidental meeting.

Part of me wanted to turn around on the spot and flee in the opposite direction but my sudden inexplicable petrification and the thought of getting lost in the dungeons by myself kept me from moving. Instead, I gathered all my courage and made for an attempt at casually walking past him, clinging to what remained of my hope that he wasn’t here because of _me_ , that he had just returned from lunch earlier for some other reason and was going to leave me alone. But I didn’t get very far.

No sooner had I attempted to push past him, my eyes glued to the floor to avoid confrontation, that I felt his grip tighten around my upper arm, pulling me back, his free hand covering my mouth as I instinctively tried to scream for help.

„Where are you going, Claire“, he laughed while pushing me gently against the wall. I struggled against his grip as best as I could, even kicking him, but soon had to accept the fact that not only was he at last one head taller than me, he was also a lot stronger. My slim physique felt like nothing more than a puppet next to him and I realised with a rush of dread that I was not leaving the dungeons unless he wanted me to. What was he doing down here already anyway? Did he come to throw me through the air again or to jinx me just to make up for the fact that I broke his friend’s nose? Was it really possible that he was _that_ much of an asshole?

While I was fighting with all my strength to free myself from his grip, Tom watched me with what I could only describe as an intrigued expression. His hands did not budge at all while I pushed and pulled against them, as if he was calmly waiting for my pointless struggle to cease. Only when my breath went heavily against his hand and I slumped against the wall with no strength left, did he let out a small sigh.

„No more screaming. Don’t make me hurt you“, he said as casually as if he was talking about the weather. I was sure he was going to see straight through me should I attempt to lie, so I nodded quickly and gasped for air the second he finally took his hand off my mouth. I had started to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His hand was gripping my arm so tightly that it started to hurt. Maybe, I thought, if I could just keep him talking for long enough, someone would be bound to return from lunch and find us. Surely he wouldn’t dare to assault people in front of others, all while trying to maintain his sparkly clean image as a prefect? He’d have to let me go eventually and unharmed as well.

But Tom seemed to have read my mind.

„Nobody is going to come for a while, Claire“, he stated. „They’re all still at lunch. I bet nobody is even missing you yet.“ The resulting fear on my face then made him smile. To my horror I couldn’t suppress a small part of me that noticed just how attractive he looked when he smiled and how much I liked to see it. He was a weird kind of handsome. It was the kind that hit you square in the face and yet still allowed you to find more and more of it the longer you looked. I suddenly had no problems at all imagining how he managed to wrap students and teachers alike around his fingers at will. I had to shake my head a little to clear my thoughts and focus on my dire situation again.

„Tom, what are you doing?“ I finally managed to ask him, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to me. I still stood with my back against the wall, pinned between the cold damp stone and his tall stature. A small glance to my left told me that there was still nobody in sight, just as he had promised.

„ _Tom, what are you doing?“,_ he repeated in the meanwhile, cruelly imitating the concern in my voice. Blood rushed into my face and my hands began to shake. What was his god damn problem?

„I don’t understand what you _want_ from me“, I snapped, gathering all my remaining courage. „Yes, I broke Erian’s nose because he damn well deserved it. He’s a jerk! He treated Jeyne like crap and he can get his nose fixed in the hospital wing in two seconds so why do you keep messing with me? Leave me the hell alone _,_ Tom!“

It felt good to challenge him, to call him out on his bullshit, yet I regretted it at the same time. I could see it again briefly, the sinister red flash in his dark eyes. But instead of getting angry at me or hurting me for speaking up, his expression softened a little as he started to lean closer towards me.

My heart felt like it had stopped dead. I started to struggle again in a sudden rush of repulsion, trying to pull away from him as his face came ever closer, so close indeed that his lips ended up just inches away from my neck. I could feel his cool breath on my skin and my chest felt like it was close to bursting. I had goosebumps all over my arms and shoulders which I was sure he noticed.

„What I want from you? Are you sure that you _really_ want to know that?“ he whispered playfully against my neck. His scent, indefinable and yet overwhelmingly intoxicant, suddenly hit me with such a force that my knees started to feel weak. His breath seemed to leave a burning trail upon my skin that was worse than actual touch.

I wanted him to stop, to let me go. Somewhere between my racing thoughts, I wondered what he was doing, what his plan was or whether he was just playing with me to get a reaction. If so, I didn’t want to give him what he was looking for but it was hard. The sudden, forced closeness between us stopped me from thinking straight.

When his hand that had previously covered my mouth suddenly brushed across my collarbone and shoulder, seemingly incidentally, I couldn’t suppress a stifled gasp that made him laugh again. I immediately hated myself almost as much as I hated him for doing this to me. I trembled as he grabbed a strand of my hair that had come loose from my braid and slowly let it run through his fingers.

The smile on his face spoke more than a thousand words. This was exactly the kind of scenario he had aimed for and it made me unbelievably angry that I was giving him precisely what he wanted. I felt weak, embarrassed and ridiculous for trembling in his grip and for reacting to his presence the way I did and yet I could do nothing to stop it. He was pulling my strings like an expert. I wanted to push him away, I wanted to run, I wanted to _hurt_ him for the way he treated me but at the same time…I never wanted him to stop. Being this close to him felt like a terrible, exhilarating rush.

„That was a cute demonstration in the stadium earlier, by the way“, he noted after a while and I could tell that this time he was trying to sound more casual than he really felt.

„What do you mean?“, I asked, glad to note that my voice still worked at least. Yet if there had been any doubt in Tom’s mind on how his demeanour affected me, I was sure he knew it by now. Like a confirmation to my thoughts, he grinned.

„You and Calvary of course.“ He raised his head and pushed up my chin so that I had to look straight at him. The look in his eyes was so indefinable that I once again wondered how I had ended up in a situation like this. The thought that Henry was bound to show up in the Great Hall to look for me any moment now while I was stuck in the dungeons inches away from Tom Riddle seemed to rip apart my heart.

„Have you ever been _properly_ kissed, Claire?“ he whispered while his thumb slowly moved from my chin down my neck. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. How did he know so well what he needed to do to affect me this way? It was like he could read my mind like an open book.

„Properly…kissed?“ I stuttered. My attempt at pushing his hand aside ended with him grabbing my free wrist to pin it against the wall like an annoying distraction, accompanied by a reprehensive flick of his tongue.

„If you have to ask, then I guess the answer is no“, he mused. „I didn’t think Calvary had it in him anyway if I am honest. And to answer your question on what I want…I guess the short version is that I like to own things that aren’t mine, at least not initially.“

He had barely finished speaking when his words already started to echo in my mind. _Things._ He liked to _own_ _things_ that weren’t his. Was I just some object to him? Some missing checkmark on his list of conquests that he wanted to cross out? Had he become so arrogant by now, so blinded by his own fame and success, that other people were nothing but property to him anymore?

The insecurity that I had felt in his presence until now suddenly seemed to lift itself like a veil, clearing my head and filling me with anger. He really was unbelievable. And I was done being toyed with for his amusement.

„I am not some _thing_ you get to own though“, I hissed, pulling my wrist free with such a sudden burst of strength that even Tom seemed surprised. „I am not interested in you, I don’t even like you. You and your friends are mean, arrogant bullies and I sincerely hope that one day all your ‚fans‘ and all the teachers see you for what you really are: nothing but some self-absorbed jerk!“

I was sure I had crossed some invisible line there but at this very moment, I didn’t care. I was done with his games. Henry and Jeyne were waiting for me in the Great Hall and wasn’t going to let Tom waste my time any longer. His expression had since turned into mild surprise, probably due to my unexpected outburst. I could tell that this wasn’t how he had planned this to end and felt myself being filled with grim satisfaction.

Yes, he had scared me. My reaction to his touch was something that I would probably feel ashamed about for the rest of my life, especially given how much I loved Henry. But Tom hadn’t gotten all he wanted, this much was obvious, and that was enough to make me feel better.

He was still watching me intently, as if trying to solve a particularly annoying puzzle, when I could finally, _finally,_ hear steps coming from the direction of the entrance hall. Tom let out a disappointed sigh, released my arm while stepping back and ran a hand through his dark hair as if nothing had ever happened.

„I guess we’ll have to continue this conversation on Wednesday then“, he said, obviously annoyed.

I, however, now that I was finally freed, didn’t waste any more time. I shoved him aside rudely, ran to pick up my broom from the floor and immediately darted past Tom without throwing him another glance. I knew he was still watching me as I hurried down the cold corridor and it was all I could do not to knock the group of Slytherin students returning from their lunch out of my way as I sprinted out of the dungeons as fast as I could.

At this very moment, I would have sold my soul to never see Tom Riddle again in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Again, if there is any feedback you can give me on my writing, the characters or the plot, I'd appreciate the sh*t out of that :D since I am quite critical with my own style, writing these chapters takes a few hours every time and I'd love to hear what people think about them!
> 
> Thanks again and see ya in chapter 4!


	4. The Calm before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey and welcome back to chapter 4 :) this one's sort of dedicated to Notsydneyharris who made me realise with her comment that apparently there is actually people reading this story. 
> 
> For real though, I am originally writing this for another platform in my mother tongue and the English translation was just meant as some good writing practice in case there were also people on here who'd like to follow the story. It takes me quite a bit of time to translate the chapters (time I could otherwise spend on continuing the original story) so when after three chapters there wasn't really any feedback at all, I assumed that people on here prefer different pairings or plots which is fair.
> 
> So, long story short: if you want me to continue adding the translations here, I'd be happy to but then please actually let me know. Posting into the silent void feels weird when the main drive/payoff of writing fanfiction for me is to hear about people's thoughts, emotions and reactions to the chapters.

Chapter 4 - The Calm before the Storm

My heart was still beating in my throat when I left the dungeons and headed towards the Great Hall without a second thought. My hot shower would have to wait until after lunch because I couldn’t stand a single second more of being by myself in this castle. Knowing my luck, I would only run into the next catastrophe on my way to the Ravenclaw tower and I was simply craving company. _Pleasant_ company, I added as an afterthought, the memory of Tom Riddle’s breath on my skin still terribly fresh in my mind. I really needed a distraction.

Luckily, it didn’t take me long to find Henry and Jeyne sitting at the end of the crowded Ravenclaw table with another friend and roommate of ours, Erena Bailey. The three of them had obviously started to eat without me, as Jeyne was halfway through an impressively sized corncob that she dropped with a jolt when I planted myself on the bench next to her, broom in hand.

„Merlin’s beard, Claire, you spooked me“, she gasped, furrowing her brows immediately at my sight. „Didn’t you go for a shower? Henry said you’d be late because of that.“

„Well, no“, I replied vaguely, my heart still beating fast and an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my face. I didn’t really understand why but I instinctively avoided Henry’s confused gaze while loading my plate full of potatoes, roast and veggies. I felt as if he’d magically be able to read right off my face that instead of having gone for a shower, I had been stuck in the dungeons getting involuntarily personal with Tom Riddle.

„Slughorn caught me on the way“, I finally added, when it became obvious that none of my friends would let me get away without some kind of explanation. My conscience was reassuring me in the meantime that at least I wasn’t actually lying to them, just omitting a completely _inconsequential_ part of the truth. „Apparently he thought that I’d love to attend his club meetings again. Dragged me all the way to his office to hand me an invitation himself.“

I had barely finished my sentence when Erena already choked on her pumpkin juice while trying to suppress a laugh, leading to Henry giving her a couple of hard slaps on the back before she could calm down again.

„You’re going to a Slug-Club meeting, Claire?“ she then croaked, her pretty face still flushed from coughing. „But they’re super boring!“

„I know“, I sighed. „But he seemed to think that it was my idea in the first place. I guess it’s someone’s idea of a hilarious prank? He didn’t want to tell me where he got his notion.“

I threw my friends an inquisitive glance but none of them looked guilty so I let out a defeated sigh. Jeyne kept looking at me with a deep frown and I knew exactly that she was wondering too whether this was just another checkmark on the long list of ways to ruin my life that the Slytherins currently seemed to be going through. I was thankful, however, that she didn’t voice her suspicions here and now because the last thing I wanted right now was for Henry and Erena to learn just how shit my day had been.

„So, are you going?“, Henry asked me eventually, his expression seemingly stuck between concern and amusement. Again, looking at him resulted in an uncomfortable drop in my stomach. How I hated to keep things from him…

„Mhm“, I thus replied half-heartedly while pretending to carefully slice my roast into particularly neat pieces. „I was gonna talk to you about that anyway.“

„To me? How come?“

„Slughorn asked me to let you know that you are also more than welcome to attend. He called you“, and I dropped my voice to imitate the wheezy voice of our Potions teacher, „ _that talented boy of mine_.“

Henry’s face looked about as thrilled as I had expected at which point even Jeyne let out an amused snort.

„Brilliant“, she mocked us. „Why don’t you attend together then? I can hardly think of a more romantic setting for a hot date.“

Erena tried and failed to stifle another laugh which I acknowledge by savagely skewering one of my potatoes. In the meantime, Henry’s face turned into a nervous frown.

„I can’t do Wednesday, Claire“, he explained with an apologetic smile. „I set up a round of Quidditch training for that day earlier so we can work through today’s match again and find some things to improve.“

As he watched all joy vanish from my face, he quickly grabbed my hand for damage control.

„You can’t be serious“, I said desperately. Until now, I had been convinced that I would at least be able to brave Wednesday evening at my boyfriend’s side. Now, however, a mild panic seemed to rise from the back of my head as I considered the fact that Tom Riddle would be there as well. It seemed like an impossible prospect to face him again without some sort of backup, especially because I never wanted to risk ending up alone with him anywhere ever again.

„Could you not maybe postpone the training?“, I begged him, throwing all my power as a girlfriend into an affectionate look that would hopefully appeal to Henry’s protective instincts. „I couldn’t possibly survive this evening without you there.“ Jeyne threw me an irritated glance that I countered with a subtle shake of my head. I would tell her everything later when we were alone.

„Claire, it’s just Slughorn“, Henry finally replied. The look on his face made it obvious just how much he was struggling with the thought of cancelling a Quidditch training session in favour of attending an insanely boring dinner party with me, especially since he didn’t know _why_ exactly this was so important to me. „I really can’t postpone this. The team needs a good session to regain their confidence after we lost today. I couldn’t possibly cancel to take the same girlfriend to a teacher’s dinner club that caught the Snitch right in front of Rigel today, especially not as their captain. They’d think I’ve gone mad. I’m really sorry, Claire. If you go another time, I’ll join for sure, I promise.“

He shot me an apologetic look that made it impossible for me to actually get mad at him, planting a quick kiss on the back of my hand with a twinkle in his amber eyes. Of course, I couldn’t really blame him in the first place. His entire house would instantly consider him a traitor for preferring his Ravenclaw girlfriend over a Gryffindor Quidditch training just mere days after they had lost a match against us. I was sure that the situation would look different to Henry if he only knew _why_ I wanted to avoid going by myself so desperately but my mind stayed made up not to tell him about my dungeon encounter with Tom. I refused to ruin his weekend like this.

With hope slowly fading, I thus threw Jeyne an inquisitive look but she immediately countered with a sad frown. „I am so sorry, Claire, Erena and I are going to the Astronomy Club this Wednesday at nine o’clock. We’re trying to finally finish that model of the Andromeda Galaxy that we’ve been working on forever.“

I buried my face in my hands with a dramatic sigh. I had completely forgotten about Jeyne’s Astronomy Club meeting. This was just my luck. The thought of having to show up at Slughorn’s dinner on my own in a few days sent a cold shiver straight down my spine.

„Thinking about it, though“, Erena mentioned suddenly, just as I was about to plunge myself headfirst into a particularly desperate vision of an evening spent between Horace Slughorn and Tom Riddle. „Alleria might be going to the Slug-Club on Wednesday. I think she mentioned something like that a few days ago. Why don’t you ask her later? Maybe you can go together!“

With a sense of mild relief I nodded, thankful that there at least remained some small rest of hope that I would have a friendly face by my side on Wednesday. At the same time, however, I started to crave a huge bottle of firewhiskey to drown my emotions once and for all.

The rest of our lunch then went by without any further excitement. Henry left after a while to tackle a growing mountain of leftover homework with his friends so I joined Jeyne and Erena on their way back to the Ravenclaw common room, spending the entire way lost in my thoughts. The more I pondered, the more I developed the need to have a private chat with Jeyne to get her take on things, so we agreed to meet in the entrance hall an hour later, giving me the time for a long-overdue shower and allowing her to run to the library to borrow even more books.

I made my way back into our dormitory in a hurry, throwing my broom aside carelessly, and headed straight for the bathroom without delay. All I wanted at this moment was some time on my own, scorching hot water and an unholy amount of lavender scrub to get my blood flowing. And as I was scrubbing off the sweat and dirt of the last couple of hours shortly after, I was finally overcome by a brief, wonderful sense of relief. The longer I stood under the hot water and the more time I spent rubbing my skin with a rough sponge until it turned pink, the better I felt and the further away recent events seemed to grow. It almost seemed silly. Now that I was here on familiar terrain in broad daylight, thinking about what had happened in the dungeons earlier suddenly seemed so surreal, like it had only been part of a particularly vivid daydream.

Unfortunately, however, I was quickly pulled back into reality when I left the bathroom and my eyes fell on the horrible lilac envelope that now lay abandoned on my bed, reminding me of my impending doom through its mere existence. I got dressed with a frown, dried my hair with a little spell and decided to ask Alleria about her plans for Wednesday at the earliest opportunity.

When I arrived in the entrance hall a short while later, Jeyne was already there waiting for me, her poor schoolbag once more hopelessly overfilled with books and scrolls on the Andromeda Galaxy.

For a blissfully quiet while, we walked aimlessly across the grounds until eventually we found a sunny yet secluded spot next to a windswept tree right at the edge of the lake. It didn’t seem like there were many other students enjoying the warm weather today but I revelled in the fresh breeze nonetheless, mindlessly throwing small pebbles over the water’s surface and counting the glittery rings they left behind while skipping. My record seemed to peak at eight.

In the meantime, Jeyne had chosen a spot behind me, leaning against the tree and apparently immersed in one of her books. I was thankful that she didn’t feel the need to immediately riddle me with questions but instead seemed to be waiting for me to start talking on my own. And I _did_ really want to tell her all about what had happened, yet my throat seemed to get all choked up every time I tried to raise my voice. And where should I even get started anyway? How was I going to explain to her what I had felt, _truly felt_ , in the last hours when I still struggled to understand it myself? A substantial part of me had started to feel terribly ashamed of my reaction to Tom’s touch. In hindsight, I wondered why I hadn’t struggled more, why I hadn’t at least attempted to jinx him, to show him just how much I despised him…

 _Because_ , a small voice in the back of my head informed me immediately, _you didn’t really despise ALL that he did, did you?_

I shook my head in terror, trying to banish the thought. I knew that Jeyne was not going to judge me for the way I felt but saying it aloud felt a lot like making what had happened actually real. And on top of that, thinking about Henry in all this still left me with a painful sting in my chest.

„I didn’t lie about being held back by Slughorn“, I finally admitted, my voice just barely audible. But it was enough. Just a moment later, I could hear Jeyne quietly closing her book behind me. I grabbed another small pebble next to me and started to spin it nervously in my fingers, looking for the right words to express what I wanted to say when Jeyne beat me to it.

„But that’s not _all_ that happened, is it?“ she asked knowingly, confirming once more that she had read my mind at lunch. I shook my head in response.

„Not all, no“, I choked. My voice suddenly sounded quite wooden, but I didn’t want to delay coming clean any longer. „When I wanted to head back for that shower, I ran into Tom Riddle again.“

„You’re not serious“, gasped Jeyne, appearing next to me not a moment later to grab my hand, her expression furious. „What happened? Did he attack you again?“ The angry yet worried look on her face made my heart sink even more.

It was incredibly hard but after a while I finally managed to break my silence. I told Jeyne all that had happened after we had split up at the Quidditch stadium earlier today. I told her about my broom being jinxed during the game, about Slughorn and his stupid notion that I wanted to attend his club and, with a heavy heart, about meeting Tom on my way back from the dungeons. Jeyne listened with a stunned expression but I was thankful that she didn’t interrupt me even though I could hear her sharply inhaling air multiple times, especially when I neared the end of my story. Only when I had finished my tale, my face flushed and exhaling properly for the first time in what felt like forever, did she shoot me an imploring glance.

„Claire, you _have_ to take this to Professor Cepheus. He attacked you and not for the first time“, she whispered even though there was no-one around to hear us. „And he is a prefect for God’s sake, this kind of behaviour should have some consequences!“

I frowned at her worried expression, shaking my head. I had been sure before that her first suggestion would be to talk directly to the head of our house, mostly because in Jeyne’s mind a teacher was able to rectify pretty much any situation, but this was really the last thing I needed right now.

„I don’t think that’s a good idea“, I replied carefully because I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. „I don’t want to retell the whole story again, least of all to a teacher, and just _think_ for a moment - can you imagine the drama this would cause? There probably hasn’t been a more revered student than Tom at this school since Dumbledore went here himself, especially since last year. It was he who caught Rubeus Hagrid and saved everyone from those monster attacks, it was he who got that stupid award and it’s him literally every teacher absolutely adores. Do you honestly expect people to even believe me without proof? Maybe our friends would but the rest of the school? No way. He’d just deny everything and turn my life into literal hell just because he can. And you would probably get involved as well.“

„I can see that“, Jeyne replied with a defeated expression. „But just the thought of him getting away with treating you like that…it makes me sick.“

She looked at me with such concern and frustration on her pretty face that I felt compelled to grab her hand, managing a pretty weak smile.

For a bit, I watched her savagely rip out entire bundles of grass with her other hand, clearly with a very specific image in mind, and couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of gratitude for her friendship. It meant the world to me that she didn’t judge me on what had happened nor my decision not to talk to Professor Cepheus quite yet. Just by having been here for me and having listened to my version of events, she had already alleviated a big part of the weight I had felt on my shoulders until now and for me, that was enough.

„Claire“, she said carefully after a while, avoiding my eyes knowing full well that she was about to address a critical subject. „You’ll have to tell Henry though, don’t you? You’re his girlfriend, he’d want to know.“

„No way“, I replied, earning me an instant frown from Jeyne but I didn’t care. Just imagining Henry’s face, always filled with that bright smile that I loved so much about him, made my decision not to bother him with this a hundred times more certain. „I couldn’t do that to him. He’s got enough on his mind and again…I don’t want this to cause any drama. I feel like that’s just what Tom would want.“ Jeyne’s face turned desperate.

„But you’d want to know as well if the roles were reversed! How could you keep something like this from him?“, she gasped. It was obvious how much she disliked the idea of keeping a secret from Henry, who was after all also a really good friend of hers, but this one time I would have to play the best-friends-first card. My mind was already made up and there wasn’t anything she could say that would make me change it.

„You’ll have to promise me to keep this between us“, I implored her, my blue eyes transfixed on her green eyes as if to bind her to an unspoken oath. I knew how much she’d struggle with this. She was a straight forward and honest person, which under normal circumstances was one of her best traits, but now I needed her to be on my side and my side only. „Promise, Jeyne, please. For my sake.“

For a moment, she just stared at me with a huge frown, seemingly waiting for me to change my mind or drop my request but when it became obvious that I wouldn’t, she let out a huge sigh, her shoulders dropping in resignation.

„Fine, I promise.“

—-

But as it turned out over the next days, Jeyne wasn’t _quite_ able to let the matter go entirely. 

Whenever she saw an opportunity to catch me alone, I was sure to receive an appeal to my conscience, to my decency as a girlfriend and just in general, to my heart. She tried to convince me whenever there was no-one around between lessons, at lunch, when we sat buried beneath parchment rolls and essays in the evenings and I was certain that, had we not shared our dormitory with three other girls, she would not have given me a break even at night.

When appealing to my morals didn’t seem to work, however, she swiftly moved on to bribery. The longer I ignored her, the longer the list of things grew that she offered to buy me at Honeydukes next time we’d visit Hogsmeade, reaching an impressive and surely expensive length as time went by without me budging. It was only on Tuesday afternoon, when I still hadn’t changed my mind and was just talking her through my reasoning for the hundredth time during our Herbology class, that she finally seemed to surrender. Now, instead of trying to change my decision any further, she started to channel her energy into cold revenge.

And so it just so happened that towards the end of the class that we shared with the Slytherins as always (I was heroically hiding from Tom and his friends behind a particularly huge climbing plant), Charles Avery’s freshly plotted Plangentine suddenly exploded with such force that all surrounding Slytherins, Tom included, got sprayed with generous amounts of earth and slimy fruit - very much to the delight of all present Ravenclaws, most of all Jeyne whom I had never before seen so filled with mischievous satisfaction. I didn’t quite have proof of her involvement in the incident but I was sure that at some point during the previous days she had mentioned the explosive reaction of Plantengines when fertilised with Dragon dung…of which her bowl looked suspiciously empty at the end of the class. I didn’t mind at all though, I was just happy that she had stopped trying to change my mind every five minutes.

Another round of good news that I received on Tuesday evening then consisted of the fact that Alleria was indeed also planning to go to the Slug-Club the next day. She seemed a bit surprised when I casually mentioned that I was going to be there as well but in the end she was thrilled about the company and we agreed to meet in the dormitory the following day at eight o’clock to head there together.

Henry, however, I still kept avoiding as best as I could - very much to Jeyne’s continuous vocal displeasure.

„What is he going to think?“, she hissed at me as we were waiting with the Gryffindors in front of our Charms classroom on Wednesday morning. Henry had just thrown me a big grin that I had only returned somewhat half-heartedly which Jeyne thought was a sure-fire way to end my relationship in the long run. „If you keep this up, he is gonna end up assuming that _he_ did something wrong!“

I ignored her plea but Jeyne was right of course, that much I had to admit. It pained me to keep my distance from Henry, especially when there was nothing I wanted more than to just spend time with him like before. However, the past couple of days had filled me with a grim determination that if I could only make it past the Slug-Club unscathed, everything, including my relationship with Henry, was bound to go back to normal. _Surely,_ I tried to convince myself during every waking hour, if I managed to survive the evening that had caused me sleepless nights since Saturday the subject of Tom Riddle had to resolve itself. It just had to.

But the closer time ticked towards eight o’clock on Wednesday, the more I could feel my nerves being stretched to the breaking point. The sad climax of my rising panic, combined with too much nightmare-fuelled tiredness, thus occurred during our last lesson of the day, Potions with the Slytherins.

I was just following Jeyne’s difficult instructions on how to cut a thick, slimy root into the steaming cauldron we had worked at for the past hour, feeling tired and sweaty in the vapour-filled classroom, when I suddenly felt someone walk by behind me. The brief draft of air this caused hit me surprisingly cool against my neck which, in a panicked flashback to Tom’s breath on my skin just days earlier, caused me to drop the entire four-pound root into our potion, resulting in an explosion strong enough to burn two fist-sized holes into my robes and setting the tips of Jeyne’s hair on fire.

I considered it an act of mercy that Professor Slughorn, after sprinting to our table following the noise with a pitiful expression, decided to let us go twenty minutes before the class officially ended so we could at least escape the blatant jeers coming from the Slytherin corner.

The day seemed truly cursed. As a result, by the time I finally stood in front of the mirror in our dormitory a good four hours later, trying to squeeze myself into my dress with a frown, I was sure that Jeyne by now considered me mentally unstable to some degree.She was laying on my bed on her stomach, watching me with her feet dangling in the air, an expression of undiluted concern on her face that I couldn’t even blame her for given my erratic behaviour.

„You look pale“, she stated the obvious while watching my fruitless attempt to cover up the deep shadows under my eyes with Erena’s make-up. It didn’t seem to work very well at all, mostly due to my lack of experience with anything more advanced than lipstick. My face looked like I was about to head out to my own funeral, a fact that I hoped to at least partly conceal by leaving my hair open. The long, black curls falling over my slim shoulders were the only thing I liked about my appearance, mostly because they reminded me of my mother.

„Definitely won’t get any better“, I concluded with a sigh after failing to draw my eyeliner evenly for the third time in a row, threw Erena’s make-up bag on her bed and face-planted on mine next to Jeyne. „My dress is also at least three sizes too small. It’s the one we bought for Erena’s party two years ago in Hogsmeade but that was before I grew boobs. I can barely breathe.“

„Chin up“, she grinned. „You look pretty even if you don’t breathe. Lipstick suits you.“

I snorted into my blanket. „Wanna bet my dress will rip straight open during dessert so that I can’t ever look anyone in this castle in the eye ever again?“

„Well“, Jeyne concluded wisely, „at least social ostracism would allow you to talk to Henry again. Couldn’t get any worse at that point, could it?“

I let out a miserable sigh to cover up how nervous I felt when I heard the door to the dormitory open behind me, followed by someone entering on high-heeled shoes.

„Claire, it’s almost eight, wanna get going?“ Alleria’s cheerful voice asked, eventually causing me to rise from my bed like a particularly pathetic Inferius. One glance in her direction told me that she, unlike me, had pulled out every trick in the book to look her best. She was wearing a silver, glittery dress that contrasted her black skin perfectly and had styled her dark hair into an elaborate ponytail. For a second I wasn’t sure what blinded me more, her sparkly earrings or her contagious smile and I knew at once that I looked like a wet towel next to her. On an evening like this, however, I hoped this to be an advantage.

„Yes“, I finally replied, throwing a last desperate look in Jeyne’s direction before grabbing my bag and following Alleria out the dormitory. „Let’s get this over with.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! Next chapter to translate would be the Slug-Club but again, please consider what I explained in the notes at the beginning of the chapter. Thanks ❤


	5. The Slug-Club (1) - Chance Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay and thanks for your patience :)  
> This chapter took a little longer to translate because the Slug-Club turned from one into three parts (oops) and I wanted to finish writing all of them before starting on the translation, to avoid having to make changes later. I appreciate the Kudos and comments and I hope you keep enjoying the story as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter 5 - The Slug-Club (1)

With every step that Alleria and I took towards the dungeons, my initial conviction seemed to pummel further and further into a never-ending abyss. I was desperately cold, because of course I had forgotten to bring a cloak, my dress was preventing any and all blood circulation in my chest and the prospect of being helplessly exposed to Horace Slughorn for multiple hours plunged me into a downright depression.

It was my only silver lining that Alleria could, unlike me, seemingly hardly wait to throw herself into the group of Slughorn’s unfortunate chosen because, without her radiant positivity, I would have probably turned around and called it a day at the halfway point of our trip down to the dungeons. Was an Outstanding in Potions really worth putting myself through this nonsense? Was today not maybe _the_ perfect day to give up on my magical education and move into the forbidden forest to live among the centaurs and werewolves instead?

The cold wind that blew mercilessly through the corridors, as it always did this time of the year, made me shiver while I absentmindedly imagined one horror scenario after the other for today’s evening. 

I was only woken from my dark thoughts when I heard an appreciative whistle, apparently aimed at us, coming from two Slytherins across the entrance hall who could, judging by their height, not be older than fourth grade. The taller one between them shot Alleria a wide grin and a wink as we walked by, obviously attempting to comment on her outfit in a sad, tasteless way.

But whereas I would have probably just pushed past them with a frown, Alleria stopped dead in her tracks immediately, a dangerous glint entering her dark eyes. She seemed to be positively fuming.

„Am I right to assume that that _pathetic_ whistle was aimed at us?“ she snapped in a tone that reminded me strongly of Professor Cepheus, ever strict head of Ravenclaw house. With her hands on her hips and a deep frown on her pretty face, Alleria managed to look threatening even in a glittery party dress - an impressive feat in my book, especially because I still felt particularly pathetic in my own outfit. The two Slytherin boys seemed to agree, because they stopped for a moment, looking dumbfounded at receiving an actual reaction to their catcall.

„Uh, I guess so?“ the shorter one replied bemusedly. _Wrong answer_ , I thought to myself while heroically hiding behind Alleria with an embarrassed face. Tonight really seemed to start on a high note.

„Oh, you guess so? Well, then I _guess_ that will be ten points from Slytherin, don’t you agree? For disrespectful demeanour. Next time I go to a party I’ll make sure to still keep my prefect badge glued to my forehead so that even idiots like you think for a second before opening their mouths. Come on, Claire.“ She grabbed me with an aggravated snort and a final devastating glance towards the frozen Slytherins and pulled me onwards towards the stairs down to the dungeons.

„ _Boys“,_ she then cursed the second we were out of earshot. „They don’t think with their head at that age, do they?“

She threw me a deeply frustrated look that made me laugh.

„The two of them definitely didn’t“, I grinned. „Wouldn’t be surprised if neither of them ever spoke to a girl again. Must’ve been your dress bedazzling them, you look hot.“

My compliment didn’t fail to hit its mark as Alleria’s ebony face seemed to flush with a hint of red, accompanied by her clearing her throat.

„Well, I guess I had just hoped that there would be a couple of good-looking guys at the party tonight“, she admitted. „Since the handsome Quidditch Captains are all already taken, you know? And since we just _happen_ to hit the subject, how are you and Henry doing?“ She flashed me am impish glance that I countered competently by blushing myself.

„Uh, great“, I muttered while awkwardly running a hand through my hair. I hadn’t expected her to ask about Henry right away. „He’s amazing.“

„You’re damn right he is“, she grinned. „I am not sure if you’re aware but every time he comes to sit with you and Jeyne, half of the younger girls at both tables simply _die_ with jealousy. I am actually surprised that none of them have tried to slip him a love potion yet. Really makes you wonder how he manages to stay so humble, looking the way he does.“

I shrugged while trying to suppress a laugh at the thought of Henry being subjected to a twelve-year-old’s assault with a love potion. The back of my mind, however, subconsciously moved from my boyfriend to someone else, someone much less _humble._

 _„_ I hope there aren’t too many Slytherins at the party today“, I sighed, my feeble attempts at banishing Tom Riddle’s pale face from my mind failing miserably. Alleria only shrugged at my comment.

„I wouldn’t mind“, she admitted. „Charles Avery is quite handsome, would be nice to get to know him a little better, if you know what I mean. So is Tom. Even Erian would qualify if he wasn’t such a blatant ass.“

My face turned into an obvious frown that instantly earned me some raised eyebrows from Alleria. I felt bad that my contempt for her taste in men was that obvious.

„You mean Tom Riddle?“ I asked in a forced casual tone, even though I knew exactly just how stupid my question was. There was no other Slytherin named Tom, least of all in our year.

„No, I mean Tom Bradford, Seeker of the Appleby Arrows. _Of course_ I mean Tom Riddle, Claire, who else? I heard he dumped his latest girlfriend a while ago, some Slytherin fifth-year girl. Hannah MacKenzie told me during Charms that she hid in a toilet for _four_ days afterwards, crying her eyes out. Her friends even had to bring her food until a teacher got involved.“

„How very tragic“, I commented stiffly, hoping to encourage Alleria to change the subject. If there was one thing I did not feel like discussing at the moment, it was Tom Riddle’s resounding popularity with our female classmates.

At the same time, however, we turned around a final corner in the gloomy dungeons, thus entering the corridor where Slughorn always held his club parties in an empty classroom, and I was saved from the topic. My heart dropped all the way into my stomach as I felt thrown back into my second year - the last time I had been in this part of the dungeons. So much time had passed since then and yet my feelings towards the Slug-Club had remained impressively consistent. I still hated the thought of them.

„Well, here goes nothing“, Alleria sighed with an encouraging look in my direction. „Let’s hope Slughorn didn’t bring his liquorice drops again, last time they glued my teeth shut for almost three days.“

She took a moment to fix her dress and hair, an unnecessary endeavour in my eyes as she still looked flawless, then put on a winning smile before knocking on the heavy wooden door to seal our fate. I still hoped for a last-minute hole to open up and swallow me but I was not about to get so lucky.

Not a minute later, the door in front of us opened with a creak and the round face of our Potions professor appeared in the opening. The second his watery eyes fell on us, he pulled the door fully open with a thrilled expression, instantly making me regret all my life’s decisions.

„How wonderful“, he mused, a wide smile lighting up his face. „Miss Raincrest, how lovely that you could make it again today. And Miss Darcy, I am so pleased that you came, what a treat!“

He graciously stepped aside to wave us inside a large dungeon room that looked like a last-century pub of sorts, meaning that it was small and stuffy. The stone walls surrounding us all arched into a domed ceiling, the centrepiece of which was a giant chandelier that lit up the big round dining table right beneath it with the light of a hundred candles. Additionally, multiple leather couches and chairs had been pushed against the walls here and there, complemented by small tables with drinks and snacks, and to my surprise I even spotted a fully equipped bar in the back that definitely hadn’t been there in my second year and that didn’t look like it merely contained pumpkin juice.

„Did you find it alright, my dears?“ Slughorn interrupted my silent observations after a while, one hand lavishly resting on Alleria’s shoulder, the other holding a glass with a dark brown liquid that sure as hell didn’t look non-alcoholic. Judging by his reddened face, it also didn’t seem to be his first.

I tried to keep to the background a bit as he immediately involved Alleria into a polite conversation about her mum, a famous radio hostess for _Witching Hour_ , and used the opportunity to further scan the room.

Apart from us, there seemed to be ten, maybe fifteen other guests attending today, most of whom I only knew briefly. I recognised two Gryffindors that we shared Transfiguration classes with, a blond Hufflepuff boy that had been hopelessly in love with Jeyne in third grade, three Ravenclaw girls from the year above us and, to my dismay, a couple of Slytherins that included a few girls but, at first glance, also Charley Avery, Erian and Tom. Luckily, none of them seemed to have noticed our arrival yet which I used as an excuse to heroically hide between Slughorn’s wide stature and the wall.

When he excused himself a few minutes later, however, (I assumed it had to do with the fact that his glass had been emptied in the meanwhile) I immediately grabbed Alleria by her arm and pulled her into a quiet corner with a free leather chair and couch, hoping to avoid detection for a little longer. The less time I had to spend here with Tom and his friends knowing about my presence, the better.

„Since when is Slughorn serving alcohol at his parties?“ I finally asked with a frown as we got comfortable on the couch. „Is he even allowed to do that? Barely anyone here is actually of age.“

Alleria commented with a chuckle. „Probably not. But sometimes, when there are mostly older students attending like today, he lets people use his bar. I think it’s mostly so he can comfortably drink himself. There is some good stuff in there, though, maybe you should try a glass, Claire. You look a bit tense. Slughorn secretly asked me earlier whether you were okay or whether you had broken up with Henry. You know…because you’re not here together.“

I flashed her an appalled glance that she countered with a shrug. Slughorn really was impossible.

„Henry’s got Quidditch training today“, I explained in an annoyed tone. „And I look tense because this dress is about three sizes too small and there is nobody at this party I like except you.“

That then actually made her laugh as she thoroughly checked my outfit. „You know, I wouldn’t be able to tell. You look pretty.“

But before I could thank her for the kind lie, her eyes had already moved on to something behind me and an excited blush crept onto her face. I, on the other hand, was overcome by a dark sense of foreboding, knowing full well what she was about to say.

„Charles Avery _is_ here“, she whispered breathlessly, even though there was nobody around us to overhear her, and pulled me back forcefully when I attempted to throw a curious glance over my shoulder. „Don’t look, Claire, that’d be obvious. He is already flanked by two Gryffindor girls, do you think I should still go over? I don’t want him to think I have no manners.“

I had to suppress a smirk watching Alleria, my usually-tough-as-nails prefect friend, suddenly go through a rush of self-doubt when faced with the prospect of immediate exposure to an attractive guy.

„Of course you’re going“, I thus determined without a hint of doubt in my voice, in hopes of rebuilding her confidence. „Those Gryffindors got nothing on you, you look beautiful. Now go!“

„Are you sure?“, she asked with an apologetic smile, doubtlessly hinting at the fact that I’d be left alone after her departure, but I just waved her concern aside.

„Sure. I’d much rather take a back seat today.“

„Alright then. Thank you, Claire, you’re the best.“

Alleria got up with a nervous exhale, straightened her silver dress once more and then disappeared towards Charles with a winning smile on her pretty face and an air of marching into battle.

I, on the other hand, stayed safely behind in my little secluded corner, almost thankful to have a little peace and quiet for a while. For me, there was definitely nobody attending this party that would be worth a conversation, so I hatched the courageous plan of hiding on this couch until it was time for dinner, after which I intended to leave immediately. In turn, for the better part of half an hour, I paid careful attention not to catch anyone’s eye to avoid being called into conversations and instead blissfully kept to myself.

The small crowded room, however, had grown pretty heated in the meantime which unfortunately also meant that my throat got progressively drier the longer I pretended to be a particularly bland wall ornament. Still holding on to my conviction not to risk the walk across the room towards the bar to avoid social exposure, I thus looked around desperately in my corner until my eyes fell on a silver platter with small crystal glasses on a table to my right.

Relieved at the thought of refreshment, I leaned over to grab one and upon further inspection realised that the glasses must all contain firewhiskey. The burning smell of alcohol was intense, so much so that my eyes began to water, but my alternatives didn’t look much better either. If faced with a choice between quenching my thirst with firewhiskey and a forced conversation with Tom Riddle, the whiskey was going to win by a country mile.

 _Whatever, Claire,_ I finally thought to myself in a rush of rebellious courage, _you’re only sixteen once._ I raised the glass to my lips and drank its content in one go, instantly causing me to pull a face of disgust. The taste was absolutely horrendous, yet I still grabbed a second glass before I could think too much about it and emptied it as well. At least it helped with my dry throat. Alcohol might not be a solution, I thought, but it definitely wasn’t the problem either.

But I was mistaken. The moment I had emptied my second glass, the firewhiskey started to hit my throat so hard that I had to double over with a violent coughing fit. A grave mistake, as it turned out, because just a second later I could already hear Slughorn’s worried voice to my left.

„Claire, my dear, good lord“, he gasped loudly in my direction as I tried not to slip off my couch in shame. „Are you alright? Can I help?“

I could hear him start towards me with heavy steps, so I attempted a last-minute save by casually waving him aside with tears streaming down my face. The last thing I needed right now was the entire room’s attention.

„It’s alright“, I croaked, trying to blink away the tears, thankful that at least the urge to cough started to slowly subside again. My throat still burned like fire, however. Or fire _whiskey_ rather.

But alas, it was already too late. When I lifted my flushed face out of my hands again, Horace Slughorn had already made his way to my side with a concerned expression and, to my utter dismay, he didn’t arrive alone.

„Tissue, Claire?“ Tom asked in an innocent tone, only further enhancing my intense wish for a hole in the ground to swallow me entirely. I forced myself to look in his direction, mostly because we had company and I could hardly just pretend I didn’t hear him right in front of me, and regretted it immediately. The sight of him completely derailed me for a moment and I only noticed after an embarrassingly long pause that it was because I had never seen him in casual clothing before.

The Tom Riddle in my head that I so loved to loathe always wore his dark school uniform, a Slytherin scarf and his stupid prefect badge visibly pinned to his chest. The Tom in front of me now, however, could have been a completely different, a completely _normal_ person entirely. He wore nothing but black pants and a slim white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the uppermost buttons opened due to the warmth in the room.

He looked almost obscenely handsome and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him awkwardly for way too long. His entire charisma seemed to have turned 180 degrees from the Tom I had met on my own on Saturday. Involuntarily, I found myself wondering whether this was the likeable, spotless mask he wore in front of others that seemed to work so well for him. If so, I didn’t seem to be entirely immune to its effect.

I took the white fabric tissue that he offered with a barely audible „Thanks“ and wiped away the remaining tears from my coughing fit as fast as I could.

In the meantime, Slughorn seemed relieved that I was no longer on the brink of asphyxiation so he threw himself into the free leather chair to my right with an exhausted wheeze. I watched him grab a glass of firewhiskey himself before he, to my dismay, assigned Tom the free spot on the couch to my left with a wave. I immediately inched my way to the right as far as I could while he sat down with a sigh, my eyes darting around the room to find Alleria in the hopes of a last-second escape attempt. When I found her, however, she seemed deeply engaged in a conversation with Charles and didn’t even face in our direction, reducing my chances at catching her eye to non-existent. Great.

„Claire, I was just having the most engaging conversation with Tom about his plans after graduation“, Slughorn opened a conversation in the meantime, clearly oblivious to the fact that I would much rather be anywhere else right now. The glass in his hand had already been emptied again, a fact I felt was well reflected in the glassy look in his eyes. He looked positively tipsy. „And if I remember correctly, _you_ currently prefer to aim for a career as a healer over professional Quidditch after graduation? You definitely have the required grades, my dear, that much is certain.“

He looked at me expectantly, so I cleared my throat, still trying to stay as far away from Tom as the couch possibly permitted. „That’s correct, Sir.“

I didn’t really understand where Slughorn was trying to go with this conversation but I received my answer almost immediately.

„You must know, Tom, that Claire’s mother was one of St. Mungo’s most cherished and accomplished healers before her untimely passing. Such a uniquely gifted witch, even when she was still at school. It is a shame, really, that she was here before my time. I would have loved to teach her.“

He looked at me with an expression filled with both pity and curiosity that only served to make me frown deeply. How dare he even open the topic of my mother in front of Tom? And how dare he talk like the biggest tragedy in all of this was not her death but that he had not been able to teach her during school? My sad family history was nobody’s business but my own, not a casual conversation topic at stupid dinner parties.

Fuming internally, I tried to steady my breath for a moment while looking for a reasonably diplomatic reply when help suddenly came from an entirely unexpected direction.

„Professor, I think I saw Erian look for you just now“, Tom said. His tone was as courteous and polite as always, leaving no doubt whatsoever about why Slughorn loved him to the point of reverence, his favourite student, the pride of Slytherin house. My mood suddenly turned incredibly sour.

„Is that so?“ our teacher asked, clearly surprised, his eyes darting across the room to find Erian in the crowd. „Well, if that is the case, then I should find him, shouldn’t I? In case he needs something that is. It would be rude to make my guests wait during my own dinner party, though I do hate to cut our conversation short. If you’d be so kind to keep an eye on Miss Darcy in the meantime, Tom?“

„But of course, Sir. Just leave it to me.“

I watched with a stunned expression as Slughorn fought himself back out of his chair, threw the two of us a pleased expression, then seriously winked at me before making his way in the direction of the Slytherins.

It was awkwardly quiet for a moment after his departure as I tried to process what had just happened, without much success. Then, however, I gathered all my remaining anger and courage and turned towards Tom with a hawkish expression. He was still sitting right next to me, casually leaning back with his head resting on his hand, and watched me with apparent curiosity. I, on the other hand, couldn’t believe that he had once more managed to corner me on my own and spent a good while being angry at myself. _Great idea having that whiskey, Claire._ I really had brought this mess on myself…

„Erian never looked for Slughorn, did he?“ I finally asked, unimpressed by Tom’s performance, when it became obvious that he wouldn’t speak up first. His lips curved into a subtle smile but then he slowly shook his head.

„That is correct.“

„So why did you tell him then? To get rid of him?“

He seemed to ponder my question for a while, his fingers absent-mindedly buried in his dark hair, but then he simply shrugged. „You looked like you could use a break from him.“

His answer was so unexpected that, for a second, it threw me off my anger and I even forgot to frown at him. _A break?_ Was he really trying to convince me that he had acted to help me out? He, Tom Riddle, the most self-centred person I had ever encountered, was claiming to have acted out of something other than self-interest? I had to stifle a hollow laugh.

„Tom, what exactly are you playing at?“ I asked him straight out, mainly because I was sick of having to guess his intentions. I didn’t feel like playing games, especially not his, not again. But if he had heard my question, then he didn’t give it away at all. Instead, he went back to watching me with a mixture of curiosity and frustration, as if I still posed a particularly annoying puzzle to him.

All of a sudden, the rising heat and stuffy air in the room, combined with my previous liberal consumption of firewhiskey, caused my head to feel quite heavy and foggy. I couldn’t help but notice with peculiar detail how Tom’s chest was slowly rising and falling under his shirt and how his pale skin was covered in a thin coat of sweat in the warm room. As if he had read my mind, he casually raised his hand to run it through his hair and across his neck, looking stupidly handsome in the process.

The effortless way in which his looks worked their magic threw me off balance completely, causing me to stare at him blankly for way too long while I wondered if he knew exactly what he was doing or whether he just happened to be a natural at seduction.

„You look beautiful tonight“, he said after a while, having undoubtedly noticed the effect his demeanour had on my mental clarity. He threw me a smile that would have made even the most devout nun blush and I felt like someone had once again switched off my head entirely.

Just _how_ was he able to do this every time? Even though I was angry at him, even though I didn’t even _like_ him…all my negative emotions towards him turned into nothing in his presence, seemingly at his will. It drove me insane but at the same time I could not have gotten up from this couch even if my life depended on it. His gaze seemed to lock me in place.

„I wanted to apologise to you“, he eventually continued, clearly satisfied with the effect his compliment had had on my complexion. „For Saturday. Looking back, I guess I was a little…direct.“

„ _A little_ _direct_ “, I repeated with a wooden tone, stunned at the fact that Tom Riddle was actually, seriously apologising to me. In all the horror scenarios I had imagined for today’s evening, this had not been a possibility even once. I instinctively checked his dark eyes for the hint of a lie but found none. Either he was an excellent liar or he was actually serious but my assumption heavily leaned towards the former.

„Tom, you broke _four_ of my ribs“, I reminded him drily. „You almost jinxed me off my broom during Quidditch and I don’t think I even need to get started on that move in the dungeons.“ I could feel myself blush again as I vividly remembered his forced touch from a few days ago. Tom, however, had to suppress a perfidious twitch in the corners of his mouth, as if my indignant summary of his _accomplishments_ somehow amused him.

„You forced my hand with the broom, you know? Erian was never going to shut up about you otherwise“ he explained in a tone so casual as if we were talking about a particularly boring essay and not his attempts to jinx me off a broom in front of the entire school. „And speaking of the dungeons….“, he threw me a frustrated glance, „I admit I lost control. Your presence has a peculiar effect on me.“

„What kind of effect? What are you even talking about?“ I asked annoyedly, mainly because I had zero clue what he was trying to say. But my question remained unanswered once more since Tom only replied by shaking his head. Again. Was it really so hard for him to make _sense_ once in a while?

Slowly but surely, I started to question my own sanity. Why was I even dealing with him? I had a _peculiar effect_ on him, really? What was that even supposed to mean, that he was magically forced to decide between breaking my bones and assaulting me every time we met?

Apparently, my general thought process was visible on my face because Tom suddenly closed his eyes accompanied by a dissatisfied sigh.

„I’m not easy to understand, Claire“, he admitted, his expression revealing a slight hint of annoyance. _Understatement of the century_ , I immediately thought to myself but managed to bite my tongue and stay quiet. If I could help it, I didn’t want to make him angry again unless I had to. When he opened his eyes again shortly after, he looked at me with a demanding expression.

„Just accept my apology.“

It didn’t sound like a request at all, more like an order. But even though this would have normally made me angry, I still wanted to avoid further confrontation. His games had tired me, literally. I hadn’t slept properly since Saturday and I was sick of spending my days hiding from Tom and his friends in the corridors out of fear of attacks or comments. I wanted things to go back to normal with my life, especially regarding Henry who, if he didn’t already, was bound to suspect something was off about me soon. It didn’t feel good to consider forgiving Tom but then again, nobody had said that my acceptance was required to be genuine. At least at the moment, he had moved on from jinxing me every time we met, which I considered progress.

„Fine“, I thus replied with what little confidence I had left in my voice. „Under one condition.“

„Which is?“

„Erian apologies to Jeyne for acting like an absolute ass.“

That made Tom laugh again, albeit briefly. Once more I realised with a rush of dread just how good he looked when he smiled and how much I liked to see it.

„He won’t like it“, Tom mused.

„I do not care about that in the slightest“, I replied. Erian could go and die in a corner for all I cared.

„Alright, then we have a deal.“

He sat up a little from his relaxed position and held out his hand with a mischievous smile. I, however, hesitated for a moment while I searched his eyes for some kind of trick. I just didn’t understand him at all. I noticed that now more than ever before.

For more than five years, he didn’t feel it necessary to speak more than a handful of words with me and now? Now I had the impression that I had suddenly turned into his favourite toy all in the matter of a couple of days. But _why?_ In my book, there wasn’t even the slightest chance that his apology was genuine. But at the same time, I couldn’t afford to not accept it, mostly because I wanted to keep my friends, Jeyne especially, safe from further acts of revenge. If it was for her benefit, did I even have the option to decline? The answer seemed crystal clear to me.

And then there was also that sinking feeling of fear that progressively built inside of me. I felt like I had suddenly been thrown into a game of which I knew neither the rules nor the goal. I was a pawn on the board playing blindly and Tom, this much had become obvious to me by now, had intentions concerning me that I could not make any sense of and that scared me. I couldn’t afford to count him among my enemies, not as influential and popular as he was. But, and this was at least equally important, I also didn’t want to grow closer to him. I already had a boyfriend I absolutely adored, a boyfriend with whom everything was simple and sweet and easy. There was no fear in my relationship with Henry, no hurt or manipulation, and I wanted it to stay that way.

And yet, at the moment, my only option seemed to be to play along with Tom’s games.

With a sigh of resignation, I looked at him, deeply hoping that I wouldn’t come to terribly regret my decision. Somehow, I felt like I was about to throw open the door to my own demise but the thought of Jeyne and Henry gave me the courage I needed to take Tom’s outstretched hand.

His skin felt oddly cool against mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and, if you have the time, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments :) I'll hopefully back with the next translation soon!


	6. The Slug-Club (2) - Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi & happy new year :)  
> In case there are people still following this story even after my intermediate hiatus: I found a new translation software that makes translating the original chapters much easier. So I decided to continue with this a bit even though the original story is still not finished (though a lot longer by now, as in >100.000 words long, oops.).

Chapter 6 - The Slug Club (2) - Memories

With a sigh of resignation, I looked at him, deeply hoping that I wouldn’t come to terribly regret my decision. Somehow, I felt like I was about to throw open the door to my own demise but the thought of Jeyne and Henry gave me the courage I needed to take Tom’s outstretched hand.

His skin felt oddly cool against mine.

"Very good," Tom declared contentedly, an expression in his eyes that I didn't _quite_ like. It didn't feel good to give him what he wanted, but what alternative did I even have? If it were up to me, I would have rushed straight out the door and back to our quiet, cool dormitory, but instead I was trapped here at least until Slughorn declared his stupid dinner finished.

In the meantime, Tom rose from the sofa and used my hand in his to effortlessly pull me to my feet as well. The sudden movement, combined with my slightly foggy head, made me stagger a little but I thankfully didn't stumble straight into the nearest wall.

"You should have another drink," he then decided, once again not giving the impression that I had the option to refuse. I wondered if the word _no_ even existed in his vocabulary. The aftertaste of the firewhiskey still burned unpleasantly in my throat and I still had the feeling that I was not quite in control of my senses. The last thing I needed in his presence now was more alcohol, but my upcoming protest was immediately circumvented as Tom's hand naturally landed on my back to push me uncompromisingly towards the bar.

For the entire way, I was uncomfortably aware that more than one pair of eyes was following us. The three Ravenclaw girls from the year above me had already put their heads together and were giving Tom hopeful looks as we pushed past them, but he paid them not the slightest attention.

I, on the other hand, was mostly busy ignoring the strange tugging in my stomach that now seemed to spread suddenly and intensely. The place where Tom was touching my back felt like a thousand little electric jolts were spreading from it all the way to my shoulders. It wasn't until we arrived at the bar and he started filling two glasses (with his back to me, thankfully) that my tension eased a little and I exhaled audibly to calm myself down.

Then, while Tom was distracted, my eyes darted around the room and found Alleria, who had apparently also been watching us and was now giving me an irritated look that definitely alluded to my company. I tried to throw a silent "Help!" across the room, but I wasn't sure she had understood me, because only a moment later one of the older Gryffindors engaged her in conversation and she turned away from me again.

My heart, as a result, sank further into the pit of my stomach with each passing minute as I imagined how my situation must look to the other guests. I didn't like the sudden familiarity that Tom created between us, no doubt intentionally, at all. My relationship with Henry was no secret among those present and if even Slughorn had noticed my boyfriend's absence, I'm sure one or two others felt the same. My hope of escaping the whole situation without any drama arising suddenly seemed to be balancing on very thin ice.

„Claire?" Tom's voice pulled me out of my thoughts again just a moment later. He sounded a little impatient as he handed me a glass with a shimmering golden liquid I didn't recognise. It looked quite harmless in itself, but my borderline experience with the firewhiskey just now had taken away a little of my confidence in my already low tolerance level. I took a cautious sip and immediately felt vindicated when my eyes began to water again at the acrid taste. Tom, in the meantime, looked at me with an expression that I could describe as pitying at best.

"You don't usually drink alcohol at all, do you?" he asked. His own glass was already half empty without him even pulling a face, which somehow didn't surprise me at all.

"Oh... _yes_ I do," I replied not very convincingly and took another sip while trying to look casual, this time fortunately a touch more successfully. The fact that my alcoholic escapades were normally limited to one or two butterbeers in the Honeypot was well worth glossing over, I decided.

"Is that so?" asked Tom with a telltale twitch at the corners of his mouth. It was obvious he didn't believe a word I said, much to my annoyance. "You really are a pathetic liar, Claire, did you know that? One can read your face like a book."

He had barely finished speaking when my expression already darkened and, as if to spite him while making my own lie become true, I drained the rest of my glass in one go. The taste was so intense that the next breath literally burned in my lungs, but my anger at Tom's smugness trumped even my aversion to strong alcohol at that moment.

„Well, what do _you_ know?", I snapped at him as I slammed my empty glass back down on the bar a touch too hard, unintentionally drawing the irritated stares of the Ravenclaw girls beside us. "Maybe it could just be because, unlike you, I don't need to lie through my teeth literally all the time."

That finally wrung a dry laugh out of him, only driving my incessant need to kick him with all my might higher and higher. It drove me crazy that he managed to make me feel like a complete idiot in every conversation. I knew very well that it only amused him so much to play with me because it was obvious just how much I hated it, and yet it seemed impossible for me not to get affected by him. What in God’s name was wrong with me? Why had I never noticed before just how good Tom was at wrapping others around his finger? His hold on me was something I had never experienced in this form before and it was increasingly frightening me.

„How do you feel about a little bet between friends?" he finally asked me as he casually grabbed my wrist to pull me closer to him.

Everything in me immediately froze at his touch and I tried desperately to discreetly free my arm again before anyone around us would notice, but to no avail. I could hear Tom laughing softly as I had to press my free hand against his chest to keep my distance. I was so close to him that my face was only a hand's breadth away from his neck, once again caught between hopeless panic and his scent, whose dangerous effect on me was apparently unbroken. I felt cruelly drawn to him.

"I'm going to ask you a question," Tom explained so quietly that no one but me could hear. "And if you answer truthfully, or at least lie well enough for me to believe you, then I'll leave you and your friends alone from now on. So you can only win, really."

His dark eyes darted around the room behind me, barely noticeably, seemingly to make sure his little game went unnoticed for the moment.

"Forget it. I want you to let me go, Tom," I hissed, once again failing in my attempt to fight my wrist free. His _games_ were the very last thing I felt like playing right now.

„Believe me, there are _many_ things I want as well“ he sighed. I could feel Tom's free hand slowly brushing a few strands of hair from my shoulder - a feeling that instantly gave me goosebumps, though I didn't know if they really stemmed entirely from my negative thoughts towards him.

I felt completely overwhelmed. Was he really being serious right now? Not even three minutes after his hypocritical apology he had the nerve to get in my hair again?

But as much as I hated the thought, there was one fact I couldn't deny: the longer I resisted, the more likely it was that someone was misinterpreting our prolonged closeness, and it was becoming increasingly clear to me that this was exactly what Tom was relying on. His touches were too controlled compared to Saturday, too emphatically casual and at the same time obviously placed for others to see, to believe in coincidence. My options were clear and that without him actually having to say it himself. He wanted me to go along with his stupid bet or he would make sure that everyone present left this party believing that there was something going on between us. The thought of Henry's reaction to a rumour like that almost brought tears to my eyes.

"All right," I finally gave in when I just couldn't stand the feel of his hand on my shoulder anymore. "One question. What do you want to know?"

I forced myself to look directly at him and regretted it in the very same moment. The smug expression on his handsome face almost made my blood boil with anger. I had never wanted to strangle a person as badly as I wanted to strangle him at that second.

"Good girl," he finally replied with a satisfied grin. "I'll make it easy for you, too. I promise.“

And then suddenly something terribly strange happened. Something I just couldn’t explain.

I could see Tom raise his hand as if in slow motion and winced at the same moment I felt it dig into my hair to pull my head back a little. Suddenly forced to look him directly into his dark eyes, my breath caught as the room and our classmates around us receded into the distance.

I didn't understand what was happening, but I suddenly felt as if Tom's eyes were an anchor to which my entire consciousness was inextricably bound. I could not look away, even if my life depended on it. The sounds around us were muffled as if through a layer of thick cotton wool and everything felt heavy and inert - everything but him, everything but his breath and his gaze captivating me.

"Do you like it when I touch you, Claire?" he asked. His voice sounded unusually clear in the muffled swirl of our surroundings, as if everything but him was infinitely distant. My breath caught as a feeling of cold fear crept into my chest at his question. So that was what he wanted to know.

_No_ , I thought right away with all my strength, knowing that anything but the truth or an excellent lie would only plunge me further into misery. _No, Claire, you don't like it_. That wasn't so hard to say now, was it? So why couldn't the word pass my lips? It was, after all, obvious what Tom wanted to hear. I was sure he knew the truth already and was just having fun torturing me about it. Precisely because he knew that I couldn't say anything but _no_ without admitting what I already knew deep inside.

I desperately clung to the thought of Henry as if I was drowning, hoping to dispel all doubt by holding on to my love for him instead. And to his face, his smile and his warmth, which suddenly seemed so infinitely far away. My feelings for him felt like a single candle in a dark storm - the more I tried to reach for them, the further they seemed to drift away and the dimmer the light became. It was hopeless.

"No," I finally replied in a trembling voice, knowing in the same second that it was futile. My answer didn't even manage to convince myself, let alone Tom - a fact the sudden triumphant expression on his face made all too clear. I wanted to sink into the ground at this very moment and never emerge again. A single lie, a single word and I had failed to pull it off convincingly. How was I ever going to face Henry again? Surely he deserved someone who could have answered that question without doubts at any second of the day, not me.

And as if in punishment for my miserable lie, everything only got worse from there.

"No?" Tom asked me without even a hint of pity in his voice. „Now, are you _sure_ about that?"

It was obvious how much he enjoyed watching my inner conflict now that he had the answer to his question, but I had no strength left to fight back. He had got what he wanted.

The strange slow motion in which everything seemed to be stuck at the moment, suddenly expanded and contracted again as if I were travelling through a tunnel on an express train. I felt dizzy as colours, shapes, light and shadow spun before my inner eye and I was sure that without Tom's firm grip my knees would have buckled long ago.

And then suddenly I saw my own memories so clearly and lifelike in front of me as if I were looking through a veil into my own thoughts. It was the most horrible feeling I had ever felt, because it felt so _wrong_ , even unnatural. I saw my own memories from a new perspective over which I had no control, and without being able to detach myself from the forced connection with Tom. The realisation of what must have happened then hit me like a thunderclap.

Legilimency. I wasn't just imagining it, Tom _was_ in my head. I could feel his presence but I didn't understand how it was possible for him to master such an ancient and complicated magic without even needing a spell or his wand. And yet, I had not the slightest doubt that Tom Riddle could read my thoughts as if they were his own.

And as if to confirm my fear, my memories ran through the last few days like a cruel feature film I was being forced to watch. The intensity with which I still relived my thoughts and feelings the second time around was unbelievable. I saw Tom's attacks on the Quidditch pitch and during the game, my meeting with Professor Slughorn, every detail of every painful second in the corridor shortly after, my conversation with Jeyne at the lake, and every sweaty nightmare of the last few days.

It was so incredibly exhausting and humiliating and I became more uncomfortable with each passing memory. My head felt like someone had split it open to gain access and a stabbing pain spread through me more and more with each passing second. Too many emotions overtook me in too short a time - joy, fear, happiness, anger. Everything I had felt in the last few days now burst upon me all at once, but I could do nothing to stop it, for no cry, no plea, nothing passed my lips.

And then it was finally, _finally_ , over. Tom had apparently seen enough.

Once more everything in my field of vision blurred as if in a tunnel through which I was pulled back from my memories until the maelstrom finally subsided and reality came crashing down on me like a colourful, loud waterfall. What had felt like hours seemed to, in reality, have lasted only a few seconds, because no one around us looked in the least like anything unusual had happened.

I stumbled back a few steps when Tom finally let go of me and was glad when I found a chair behind me to lean on. I was incredibly hot, dizzy and my knees felt as if they would give way under me any second. As I ran my hand over my face, as if to wake myself from my trance, I noticed that my cheeks were wet as if I had been crying without realising it. I hastily wiped my tears away and tried to dispel the awful feeling in my chest that was slowly but surely spreading there.

I felt as if someone had stolen something incredibly personal and intimate from me. Legilimency, I realised with horror, was something entirely different from breaking a few ribs in a free flight into the stands. It was a brutal assault on my thoughts and my feelings and on memories that should be private, that _needed_ to be private. The thought that Tom had not only seen all this but had experienced it from my perspective made me feel miserably sick.

Tom, on the other hand, finally seemed to be fully satisfied with me. Leaning casually against the bar, he reached for his glass, emptied it in one go and then watched me with an expression of curiosity, as if he himself wasn't sure what effect his intrusion into my mind would have on me.

I was glad that he didn't touch me any further at least, because the connection his eyes had made with my thoughts still haunted my mind like a terrible hallucination. It didn't escape my notice that the Ravenclaw girls not far from us were eyeing me with aghast looks, and I involuntarily wondered if I looked as awful as I assumed.

"How are you feeling, Claire?" Tom finally asked, without a trace of empathy in his voice. It was obvious that he didn't care much how I was _really_ feeling. He looked at me like an experiment from which he now expected a result, but I had no strength left to get angry about it.

I felt as if I hadn't slept for three days. My head seemed far too full, my thoughts cluttered and unsorted, as if Tom's violent intervention had thrown everything into disarray. I couldn't and wouldn't answer him. I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to rest and more importantly, forget.

I longed more than ever for a long, dreamless sleep, but my ordeal still seemed far from over.


End file.
